


This Could Be The Downfall

by SlightlyTwistedSilverware, WelshWitch1011



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV), The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crescent Wolves, Crossover, F/M, FIx It, Grief, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Smut, Penny Dreadful AU, Resurrection, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, The Originals AU, These Characters Deserved Better, Vampires, Vanessa Did Not Die, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyTwistedSilverware/pseuds/SlightlyTwistedSilverware, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshWitch1011/pseuds/WelshWitch1011
Summary: Born hundreds of years apart, but with the curse of the wolf and the love of two powerful women in common, Niklaus Mikaelson and Ethan Chandler will stop at nothing to overcome the Devil's most fearsome creations.(Penny Dreadful/The Originals cross-over.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You do not need to have watched both shows to enjoy this fic (we hope). If you are only a regular viewer of one, please view the other fandom as OC.   
> We're hoping to fix two terrible final seasons of two amazing shows in this fic, because we loved both and honestly believe that the characters deserved better.
> 
> AU Penny Dreadful - Vanessa Ives did not surrender to Dracula, this picks up when Ethan returns to London. That nonsense with Hecate did NOT happen. 
> 
> AU The Originals - Freya lived in 19th century London for a while, where she met and secretly became friends with Vanessa Ives - also a witch. All three main Originals siblings are present from the start.
> 
> Hayley is dead. For now. ;)

**_All That’s Good is Fading_ **

**_1_ **

****

**30th April**

Every year without fail, for as long as she could remember, at exactly ten minutes past midnight on 2nd May, Hope Mikaelson was awoken by the same words whispered through a smile.

_“Happy birthday, baby girl.”_

Whilst the familiar scents of perfume and pine along with a pair of strong arms enveloped her, Hope would lie in the darkness feeling blissfully loved and secure. In those moments, in the still and quiet hours of the anniversary of her birth, Hope would relax into the embrace of the woman who had built the very foundations of her life. It became their ritual, and one that Hope herself looked forward to perhaps more than her pile of presents or her ice cream Funfetti cake.

The year that she moved to Virginia to attend The Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted, Hope secretly fretted that things would be different. With her mother back home in New Orleans, working hard to keep the factions united in peace, it seemed likely that it would be the snores of her roommate that would instead awaken her on her birthday. Of course she said nothing when she spoke to Hayley on the phone, or via the various emails they shot back and forth numerous times a day, but disappointment at the realisation had settled in firmly before long.

And yet, just a few short days later, a newly nine year old Hope’s eyes fluttered open to the sensation of a kiss being pressed to the crown of her head. Her arms were encircling a stuffed wolf toy that had not been present when she had drifted off to sleep, but she took only a handful of seconds to admire that before her gaze ticked expectantly upwards into the beaming face of her mom.

“Happy birthday, baby girl,” Hayley had breathed, eyes exhausted from driving five hours straight through the night, and yet her grin still exuberant, “didn’t think I’d miss it, did you?”

After that, every year was the same; waking up to cupcakes bearing a single candle, at first brand new Barbie dolls and then the latest i-pods, but always the soft, warm voice of her one constant.

Only now, just weeks away from her sixteenth birthday, Hope was forced to accept the fact that for the first time her mother would not be there. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, she had not gone gentle into that good night, and yet she had still gone.

Hope was having trouble breathing around that. At times, it felt like her heart was about to explode and at others her head. From the moment her eyelids fluttered open she had flitted constantly between the states of utterly bereft and murderously enraged, which was perhaps her father’s legacy. Klaus himself stayed out of her path, either choosing to give her space to unravel her grief or else too afraid that his proximity to his daughter would poke the Hollow back into wakefulness. Hope didn’t much care either way about his reasons, because very little made sense to her in the absence of the woman who had been her rock, her comfort, her safety.

She had never given much thought to the prospect of her mother dying. Hayley Marshall-Kenner had been a hybrid, an Alpha, a warrior, and a survivor; to the idolising eyes of her daughter, she had been both figuratively and literally indestructible. Until suddenly she wasn’t. Suddenly Hope was wrenched into consciousness into a world that had watched her mother burn, and the flames had still been dancing as her father had attempted to wrestle her from the half collapsed building. Caroline Forbes had been there too, with her wide and sympathetic eyes and her restraining hands tugging at Hope’s clothes to hold her back from horrors she should never have been forced to witness. She vaguely remembered punching the vampire, her father’s sharp intake of breath, and then her own screams as the fire died down to reveal what little was left of the one who had given her life.

They were due to bury her soon, perhaps that afternoon Hope suspected, but her mind was too hazy lately to really pin many facts down. One thing she did know beyond all doubt was that the world would never be the same again. From the wolves that roamed the bayou, now listless without their leader, to a shell shocked Declan still cooking up gumbo at Roussea’s, even to her own father, who seemed to think that she could not hear him crying into his bourbon whilst the rest of the household slept; life would be colder, darker, without Hayley in it.

When Hope had been seven, and still in what she referred to as the ‘Mikaelson Honeymoon Period’, her father had confided in her that Hayley had been the best thing to ever happen to them; a twisted, bitter, cruel family of Old Ones who had spent far too long pillaging humanity for whatever their unbeating hearts desired.

“Your mother gave us you,” he murmured into the shell of her ear as she sat astride his knee, her little fingers toying with the sleeve of his jacket, “and you made us better. Not right away, of course, but from the moment we knew of your existence we at least wanted to be better. For you.”

And Hayley had unfailingly taught them all how. Without the example of a good parent to call her own, due to both tragedy and circumstance, Hayley had managed to blossom into a formidable mother. Then she had set to work on Klaus, who had never been one to take instruction well. Yet he endured it, for Hope, but also for her. Attempting to preserve Hope’s innocence for as long as possible had been top of Klaus’ list – preserving Hayley’s respect and affection for him, a close second. It transpired that there was precious little a thousand year old hybrid wouldn’t do for his ‘little wolves’.

Now, however, Klaus was to be their child’s only parent, without Hayley there to help him navigate the treacherous terrain of life with a teenaged daughter. Hope could almost feel sorry him, raise a slight smile at the thought, but even getting out of bed in the morning seemed like an immense betrayal of her mom somehow.

So that was where she preferred to stay; cocooned in sheets that still bore the faintest aroma of her mother’s perfume from the last time she had stolen into Hope’s room, rolled her eyes good naturedly at the chaos of it all, and set about making the bed.

“You’re such a ‘mom’!” Hope would often joke, giggling at the mildly offended look that would cross Hayley’s face at such moments. If she was feeling particularly mischievous, she would threaten to gift her some ‘mom jeans’ for the next arising occasion, whilst Hayley would swat at her and hide a delighted grin behind the back of her hand. Nothing had thrilled her more, fulfilled her more, than being Hope’s mother, and no amount of teasing or tantrums or hormonal outbursts seemed to tarnish that for her.

If Hope Mikaelson could say one thing about her life, it was that she truly knew what it was to be appreciated by another person more than anything else that had ever entered their world.

So in her linen fortress, Hope could simply lay still and remember. The good times, the bad times, the times that straddled the line between both. She picked over them all, replayed what she could, furrowed her brow and frowned upon those that just managed to elude her. Content to be left alone, Hope filled her mind with visions of happier times, and hoped that she could use them also to paper over the fracture lines in her heart.

Because memories were all she really had left.

x-x-x

 

**London, England**

**15 th January 1897**

She could feel his eyes upon her, his gaze unwavering, unflinching. If she chanced to meet his glare then she knew she would find anger and perhaps disappointment there, and so she resigned to keep her blue eyes trained on the damp, stone cellar floor.

Kaetenay paced anxiously around the room, his hands knotted behind his back as he observed the witch prepare the altar at which she knelt. Candles and ancient carved deities lay dotted around her in a circle, as if she drew in their power whilst she crushed the herbs and salts with the pestle and mortar. Her fingers moved with obvious urgency. The language she uttered was foreign to him, borne from old Norse lands that were so different from his own. But he could feel her power, as if it were radiating from the ground beneath her and the air around her.

“This is madness!” Vanessa objected, one hand clutched to her breast and the other pressed to her forehead. This time she had no choice but to look at him, and he appeared behind her, his voice latent with unchecked rage.

“No, madness was holding a gun to your head.”

Her jaw set determinedly, Vanessa shook her head, “There is no way out for me, now. No escape. He will hunt me until the end of days.”

Ethan caught her wrist, his fingers curling around it as tightly as he could without hurting her. God only knew he had hurt her enough in the last few months, leaving her alone to face her demons in the misguided belief that he was somehow saving her from his own curse. It seemed now that she believed him indifferent, and she was consumed with heartbreak at the thought that the man she loved did not love her enough to stay. Evidently she had thought her own life so worthless that she had almost taken it in an attempt to silence the creatures that hunted her.

“This is our way out,” Ethan argued, catching Kaetenay’s expression of disapproval with little concern.

“My part in this is my own,” Vanessa said curtly, glancing down as she felt him thread his fingers through hers and clasp her hand so hard she felt sure the circulation must be constricted.

“As is mine,” Ethan countered, placing his free hand to her chin and lifting her tear stained face up towards the light. “I don’t know how to make it up to you, Vanessa. I was a fool to leave you. But I do know that I can’t - _I won’t_ \- live in a world without you. This is the only way, and this is my choice… _to be with you_.”

“If we are to do this then it must be now,” the witch spoke, her voice slicing through the tension and managing to sound so commanding that it brooked absolutely no room for protests.

“We’re doing this,” Ethan reaffirmed, staring directly at the blonde woman, who bobbed her head with a smile that revealed just how deeply she cared about the outcome of their particular situation.

“Lie down within the circle, hurry now,” she encouraged, extending a hand to Vanessa, which the other woman took without hesitation. The trust between them was unfaltering, and had been almost from the moment they had laid eyes upon each other. Magic had bound them together in a kind of secret sisterhood; one that Vanessa would be genuinely sad to lose, although it was necessary if their plan was to succeed.

“We shall meet again?” Vanessa inquired, tilting her head as she surveyed her friend, whose bottom lip trembled in a betrayal of her own fears regarding the matter.

“I dearly hope so, Van,” she whispered, pausing just a moment before she tugged the dark haired woman into her arms. She felt Ethan’s hand land gently on her shoulder; his own silent expression of thanks for what she was about to do for them.

When Vanessa drew back, taking a few seconds to compose herself, the witch turned to face Kateanay, who was wearing his mistrust for all to see. His irritation was palpable, as was his anger, but nobody seemed to be paying his feelings any mind.

“They will be watched over?” the witch enquired, satisfied when the Indian man nodded; though he had not been wholly approving of their plan, he would not break his promise to Ethan or Sir Malcolm.

“My people will be their guardians until such a time as the spell lifts,” he affirmed, “the demon will not take them, you have my word.”

From the corner of the room Malcolm began to stir, having been lost in thought for the past few hours, his mind a turmoil at the prospect of losing another child. Vanessa Ives had become akin to a daughter to him- perhaps in all truth she _was_ his child. He had loved her since her infancy, and it had seemed as though she had passed her childhood alongside Mina, allowing him to watch her grow from babe to young woman. And so now he reminded himself of the selfless nature of the love of a parent, and resolved to let her go. Anything to keep her safe, and to give her hope of a future free from the terrors that had besieged her.

Watching him cross the room towards her, Vanessa bit back a sob, tears already beginning to stream from her blue eyes as she fell into his embrace with a gasp of almost unbearable grief.

Malcolm pressed his hand to the back of her head in a vain attempt to soothe her, yet he too found himself consumed with regret; he should not have left, he should not have believed her strength and resolve to be never-ending. He had misjudged the situation terribly and now they were to all pay the price.

“We shall meet again one day, my dear. In this life or the next. I am certain of it.”

Although she was so loathed to interrupt the moment, the witch cleared her throat, sad eyes downcast to the circle in a pointed manner.

Ethan was the first to move to step inside its confines, his usual assured swagger still in place, despite the uncertainty that surrounded them all. Vanessa grabbed at his elbow, spinning him with reserves of physical strength that she did not realise she possessed. His eyes held a challenge when they swept her face; a dare to argue with him or to try to sway his decision. She knew better than that, however, and she merely forced a smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and allowed him to lead her into position. He lay down against dank stone, barely feeling the discomfort through his thick woollen coat, and waited for Vanessa to settle at his side. Then, he wordlessly reached out for her, encircling her with his arms and repositioning her without her permission so that her head lay on his chest instead, and their joined hands were linked upon his abdomen. He could smell her fear, thanks to the wolf, and he could feel the pounding of her heart beneath her breast thanks to her proximity alone. Despite their audience, he dropped a kiss to her temple then smoothed down her wild curls, which had long since escaped her neatly pinned bun. Try as he may, he just could not shake the image of her wielding his gun, pressing it to her forehead with a trembling hand and such intent, from his mind.

For perhaps the first time since he had met her, he knew that Vanessa had given over completely to fear. She surrendered without protest into the warmth and safety of his embrace despite her earlier objections to the plan.

Craning his neck to whisper in her ear, Ethan sought to bring her comfort and perhaps assuage his own anxiety.

“When we wake up, we will not be so afraid.”

He felt Vanessa grasp his hand a little tighter, and she replied in a strangled rasp, “Are you so certain of that, Ethan?”

His lips brushed first her forehead and then her cheek.

“I am,” he affirmed, seeking out her lips even as he heard the witch begin her incantation that would send them into the very deepest, most unnatural slumber. He kissed her soundly, bending his head so that his forehead was pressed to hers. He breathed her in, trying to quell the unease that consumed him; perhaps their plan would not work, but he would not abandon her this time.

“I won’t leave your side.”

Feeling the grasp of unconsciousness begin to tug at him, Ethan Chandler struggled for only a moment longer, intent on Vanessa hearing his final words before they both fell under the witch’s spell.

“ _I love you, Van,”_ drifted from his lips only moments before his eyes closed and his will surrendered. The two lovers lay together, resolute in their defiance of the demon who sought to claim the ultimate prize.

Standing back from the circle in which they lay entwined, the witch cast a mournful look over the pair, saddened by their sacrifice yet hopeful for the day they could awaken together and live the life she somehow knew awaited them.

“I must leave,” she stated, leaving the two men to watch over the couple, united in their grief for the lives they would perhaps never see lived. Their loved ones may awaken in a year, or perhaps in fifty. The spell guaranteed no exact duration, save for the fact that their eyes would open again when the evil that coveted Vanessa Ives was banished. When she and Ethan could live out the life that had been planned for them.

Pulling up the hood of her cloak, the witch cast a final glance around the cellar of Grandage Place, her heart heavy and her steps quickened by the threat of her aunt’s discovery of her spell casting.

Stepping into the shadows from whence she came, Freya Mikaelson slipped into the London night and vanished once more into the darkness. It was time to run again.

 


	2. It Hurts to Breathe Sometimes

****

 

****

**_New Orleans_ **

**_31st April_ **

Just three hours ago, they had set light to the boat carrying her mother’s ashes, and watched it burn in the middle of the bayou lake. Just two hours and fifty minutes ago, her father had fled New Orleans once again, leaving her in the care of her Aunt Freya. With part of the Hollow still contained within Klaus’ body, he had been left with no choice. Technically, Hope wasn’t alone, and so she couldn’t quite work out why it was that every fibre of her being screamed at her that she was.

She punched her pillow, hard, hoping for the kind of stinging pain she could use to ground herself. It didn’t materialise and so she instead let out a grunt of frustration that was teetering on the precipice of becoming a sob. The guilt was weighing on her heavily, along with the loss; if only she hadn’t been stupid enough to throw her childish tantrum, her mother would still be alive. Whilst she may not have been to blame for the hatred in the hearts of those that had abducted Hayley, Hope had certainly made it easier for them to achieve their aims. A sleeping spell and a coffin in an abandoned church. How could she have been so dumb? How could she have been so callous to the woman who had sacrificed literally everything to bring her into the world, raise her, make her feel loved?

Hope bit her tongue and felt just the slightest sense of relief when she tasted blood. She deserved to be punished. She wished her father and Aunt Freya would stop tiptoeing around her and treating her as though she were a victim in everything. If anything, Hope knew that she was a murderer, or at the very least an accomplice to it. Her mom was dead, and it was partly her fault.

Realising that sleep would not come easily to her, and perhaps dreading the nightmares that so frequently materialised when slumber did find her, Hope threw back the bed covers and padded to the door of her bedroom.

Glancing down the hall, she saw that the lights were still on in her aunt’s room, bright shafts peeking out from the crack beneath the door. But it was a different kind of comfort Hope thought she sought. Knowing her father’s liquor cabinet would be well stocked, she cast a cautious eye up and down the hall before walking slowly across the floorboards, careful to avoid the spots that would give her away with a creak or sigh. She had learned every one of them as a child. It had been necessary to attempt to steal cookies and candy in the middle of the night, although her mother usually caught her.

However, the sound of voices stopped her suddenly in her tracks and, as she neared Freya’s door, she realised that it was her father’s unmistakable tones that she could hear. No doubt he was engaged with his older sister in one of their frequent Skype conversations.

Finding herself eaves-dropping on a conversation that seemed to be mid-way through, Hope strained to make sense of their back and forth. Yet it was the grief and desperation in her father’s voice that seized her rapt attention.

“You’re one of the most formidable witches who ever lived… our mother bestowed great gifts upon you, sister. And yet you tell me you are powerless to help? To… to bring her back to me?”

Hope slapped her hand over her mouth, feeling the now familiar burn of tears in the back of her throat, and her eyes began to water as she listened to her own palpable grief echoed in her father’s voice.

Her aunt’s reply was low, as if she were afraid of waking her supposedly slumbering niece.

“You think if I had that power that I wouldn’t have already done it? You think I’d leave my niece motherless? I can’t work a spell like that alone, Klaus, and Hope’s powers haven’t matured yet, I…”

Klaus sounded characteristically irritated by the counter argument. “New Orleans is full of powerful witches, Freya. You can’t shake a bloody broomstick without hitting one.”

Hope took a step back, leaning against the wall and hugging her arms around herself, every cell in her body just aching to feel her mother’s embrace.

“It’s not as simple as that,” she heard Freya sigh, half out of frustration and perhaps half out of resignation. “I have only ever known one other witch who was anywhere near strong enough to work a spell of that magnitude.”

“So what are you waiting for, then? Go and find the witch. And if she won’t help us, tell her I shall pay her a visit myself.” The threat was obvious in his inference, and Freya tsked at her sibling’s willingness to resort to violence when so much blood had already been shed.

Still, the existence of such a witch piqued Hope’s curiosity, and so she listed on in earnest, all thoughts of downing a tumbler of her father’s bourbon momentarily abandoned. It was probably for the best given the fact that, unbeknown to Hope, her mother had still been watering down her wine at meal times.

“I can’t, Klaus,” Freya replied, every word sounding like an apology, “she’s… gone.”

There was a long, drawn out silence that would have made anyone else sorely uncomfortable, but was quite familiar to those bearing the surname ‘Mikaelson’ by now.

“By ‘gone’ I assume you mean ‘no longer breathing’?” Klaus finally demanded, his tone verging on desperate.

Hope could almost hear the gulp of breath Freya swallowed down before she answered, sounding pained for reasons that Hope assumed were unknown to even Klaus.

“In a manner of speaking,” was all Freya offered, before she actually did finish with a whispered ‘sorry’ that caused Hope’s heart to stutter. It was true then; her mother’s loss was permanent, her fate sealed, and Hope had been robbed of her very best friend for good. She prepared to push away from the wall, fresh tears running down her already swollen cheeks, when her dad’s voice froze her in her tracks again.

“I can’t do this without her, Freya. I don’t know how to.” he said, such raw honesty to his words that Hope could imagine the utterly broken look upon his face as he spoke.

“I know it’s hard, Klaus,” answered Freya, not missing a beat. Hope assumed that she was so accustomed now to offering her family comfort and platitudes that they came to her automatically.

“But I’ll be here to help you with Hope every step of the way, just like I helped Hayley,” she added, a tremble to her tone that betrayed her unsteady emotions somewhat, “I miss her too, you know.”

Another few moments of silence passed before Klaus said – almost too quietly for Hope to hear – “I just… I should have told her… I… never told her… what she meant to me.”

It would be useless for Freya to try to assuage him with words of kindness. Klaus Mikaelson was immune to such things, and certainly all who knew him were privy to the knowledge that feelings and emotions outside of rage were a thing rarely expressed by the hybrid. The only exception was Hope, on whom he had doted since her infancy, and it was with his daughter that his concern again lay.

“Please tell Hope… I… Tell her that her father loves her and thinks about her every moment of every day. I could not bear for her to feel that she has lost both parents. Please, tell…”

Freya interrupted him, “She knows, Klaus. But… I’ll tell her anyway. Every day, I swear.”

Hope had heard more than she could stand to, and she scurried back to her bedroom without bothering to measure her footfalls. Perhaps Freya would tell herself that old buildings were prone to making noises or perhaps she would bust Hope, but the girl didn’t much care either way anymore.

She closed the door to her room and leaned back against the oak, breathing heavily as though she had just run up several flights of stairs. Her lungs burned with the effort of drawing breath, and she so wished that she could just lie down and make it all stop. Make every last stab of pain just stop.

When her heart had calmed somewhat, Hope wandered over to her dresser, a picture of her parents and her infant self catching her eye. She lifted the frame and raised it to face level, unable to thwart a smile as she took in the image of her parents, who were untouched by time and age, young and beautiful as she remembered them both. Hayley wore a brown sundress and had her barely year-old daughter clutched tight to her chest. Hope herself held onto a fistful of Hayley’s dark hair, which she was in the process of cramming into her wide open maw whilst Klaus looked on with a grin that was possibly the very definition of the word proud. The photograph was so normal and even blissfully happy that it almost shattered something inside of Hope, although there was precious little left within the tribid to break in the wake of such loss.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she found herself mumbling as she stroked her index finger over Hayley’s features. “I wish… I wish I’d been a better daughter… the daughter you deserved.”

There was no response, of course. Just the quiet ticking of the clock in the corner of her bedroom, and the sound of late night revellers spilling out of bars in the quarter- their own joy a painful reminder to Hope of all that had been snatched from her.

And so once more, since the day her mother had died, Hope Mikaelson cried herself to sleep.

 

x-x-x

 

Freya peered into the coffee mug before her, listlessly poking at the now cold beverage with a silver tea spoon as she sat in the courtyard of the compound. Hope had cried long into the morning and so she slept on still despite the fact it was a little before eleven. Freya hoped her dreams offered her some respite from her mourning, but she knew that the opposite was probably true. She recalled her own grief conjured nightmares when she had lost her lover and child so long ago; a loss that struck at her heart even centuries later. There were some things that could not be recovered from.

Glancing up sharply as she heard the almost militant footfalls of one of the guards Klaus had imposed on the compound, Freya met the steely eyed gaze of Andrew - a day walker entrusted with her and Hope’s protection, despite their unanimous protests.

“What is it?” she asked dismissively, growing irritated by the over-zealous stance that Klaus’ minions seemed to have adopted as of late. Although, given recent events, she could understand why her brother was more concerned with keeping his daughter safe.

Andrew cleared his throat, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Whilst he had been more than willing to accept a role in the Mikaelson household, since they paid predictably well, Andrew was no fool, and he did so knowing just what kind of fate might befall someone who failed the infamous ancient hybrid and his kin.

“We’ve had a report from Rochelle at Roussea’s,” he declared, hands clasping behind his back. He stood like a soldier awaiting inspection, shoulders back and head up, gaze fixed respectfully front and centre. It almost had Freya rolling her eyes but she managed just about to contain her disdain.

“Is there a new breakfast menu or something?” Freya finally demanded, frustrated by the stilted explanation that Andrew was offering her. “Come on, Andy, some of us aren’t immortal. I don’t have all century.”

Clearing his throat almost in embarrassment, Andrew nodded his head as he offered, “A guy has been asking around after you. Some native dude with a weird looking wolf tatt. Ring any bells or should we kill him?”

“What?” demanded Freya, leaning forwards with haste and setting her mug down on the table at her side. “God, no. Nobody is killing anybody… yet… probably.”

Her mind racing, Freya pressed, “Did he say anything about why he was looking for me? Where he came from?”

Andrew stared straight ahead, his shoulders tight, unable to lose the air of a marine on parade. “No, ma’am. Just that he was here to speak to the Mikaelson witch.”

Freya nodded, her fingertips circling the rim of the mug as she pondered her options. “Then let him find me.”

“Your brother has us under strict instructions to…”

Freya waved her hand dismissively as though Klaus was of about as much concern to her as a hang nail, “My brother’s not here, and you work for me. When this guy finds the compound, and I’m guessing he will, you bring him to me. Alive. You understand me, Andrew?”

Nodding with clear reluctance, the vampire folded his arms behind his back. He offered Freya a thin parting smile before he strode off towards his colleagues, hoping that they hadn’t found and potentially disembowelled the stranger before he’d had a chance to relay the oldest Mikaelson’s instructions.

Waiting until retreating footsteps could only be heard off in the distance, Freya sat back in her seat and pondered this new turn of events. Fate generally didn’t smile down on the Mikaelson family that often but perhaps just this once things might be turning in their favour.

She swallowed down a glug of icy coffee, mostly to ground herself and temper the hope rising in her chest. It wouldn’t do at all to allow herself false optimism, especially when she had a grieving niece to care for, and a mourning brother to satiate.

But if this mysterious newcomer was bringing the sort of news that Freya suspected then she just might prove to be the saviour her family so sorely needed after all. If he was not, then Freya would be forced to accept the fact that the Mikaelsons had lost for once, and always and forever had as good as died along with Hayley Marshall.

 

x-x-x

 

“So tell me about the wolf.”

His fingers twitched around the cigarette dangling from his lips but it remained unlit. He thought that he might give up now, especially considering the gruesome pictures of decaying innards that these new-fangled packets seemed to be adorned with.

Their eyes locked across the small, shabbily decorated motel room, and she sat back in her chair, which she had positioned by the window to allow herself to look out across the back of the motel. Their new Indian friend had informed them that it was known as a ‘parking lot’, and was the patch of land designated for the enormous metal beasts that roared around the roads in place of horse drawn carriages. Everything was so very different.

Without so much as flinching, the raven haired woman turned her eyes upwards, and the man’s smile widened as he beheld the deep blue orbs that transfixed him.

Shaking her head, she replied in crisp, exacting tones that were a stark contrast to the native accents of the locals they found themselves immersed in.

“There is a moon - a crescent moon I think, hanging low in the sky. She steps forward into the light, for a moment our eyes lock, and then I feel… immeasurable grief. I think perhaps it is her grief… then she is gone. Sometimes there are others, I can sense them hidden in the woodland around us, but she is alone… lost, I believe.”

Nodding his head, he removed the cigarette from between his lips and placed it down onto the table laden with a breakfast neither had had much appetite to eat. Reaching out, he teased the tips of her fingers with his own until she returned his smile and slid her hand against his.

“How are you so sure she’s a wolf?” he enquired, brown eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded her.

Smiling enigmatically, she rose from her seat and moved to stand behind his chair. He followed her movement closely, sliding his hand up her arm as she dangled hers around his neck and pressed her cheek to his.

“I believe I am somewhat intimately acquainted with her kind, am I not?”

Ethan’s chuckle rumbled in his chest and he shook his head at Vanessa’s taunting. He liked this previously unseen mischievous side of her, which he did not doubt had been buried in their time by her fear of the supernatural forces that had hunted her.

“Indeed,” he countered, and he dipped his head low in order to claim her lips. One thing he had learned quickly about the 21st century was that public displays of affection were no longer regarded as unseemly, and that was a development that he most looked forward to exploring.

When Vanessa drew away, her hand moved automatically to the waistband of the fitted jeans their guide had provided her with. She was largely uncomfortable in the modern dress, Ethan could tell, but she had awoken in this new world with a hungry curiosity and an apparent determination to embrace whatever was thrown at her. Thus she did not complain. Vanessa knew precisely what Ethan had forsaken to remain at her side; one hundred and twenty years to be exact. And so she was determined to make this work, whatever ‘this’ entailed, since their reawakening was most definitely a second chance at a happy life for them both.

Although Vanessa had regained consciousness afraid and wary, she had sensed within mere moments that the threat was removed. She could not know exactly how it had come to pass or even when, but she did know beyond all certainty that Dracula was gone from the earth, and along with him any danger that had been posed to her. Freya, it seemed, had been as good as her word.

“The twenty first century looks good on you, Van,” Ethan grinned, leaning forward and then catching her off balance before pulling the shrieking, giggling woman onto his knee.

Humming in disapproval, Vanessa Ives wrinkled her nose and cast a disdainful eye down onto the clothes she found herself wearing. Whilst they were certainly less restrictive than the attire she had been used to, there was no elegance or grace to be found in their design. She missed the lace and intricate detail of her dresses, the refined lines and pinched waists that were seemingly absent from fashion. Though they had only been in this time for a little over a week, Vanessa knew that modern clothing was not going to be her favourite aspect of living in the new century.

“Happiness… happiness looks good on you,” he added, lifting his palm to her face and brushing his thumb over the delicate angle of her cheekbone.

Content to bask in his affections, Vanessa leaned her head on his shoulder and allowed her arm to drape around his waist. Her thoughts still frequently ran to more melancholy subjects, but mostly about their lost friends - the ones they had left behind over a hundred years ago.

“Are you happy, Ethan?” her brow creased as she regarded him, wondering if any part of him perhaps regretted leaving behind all he knew and loved to follow her into a future that was so very different to the world they had been accustomed to.

Ethan smiled in bemusement, leaning in to kiss her once, twice, three times, as if to prove his proceeding point.

“Well, let’s see now… I’m with you, that Dracula asshole is long gone, and… I can kiss you any time I want to. So yeah… I’d say I’m pretty damn happy.”

Vanessa’s smile was immediate but it failed to illuminate her eyes, which burned into Ethan’s face as though there was something else on her mind entirely. She stood, brushing down the legs of her pants as though she had expected to find long skirts in their place.

“Do you think we are doing the right thing?” she pressed, gnawing on her bottom lip as she regarded the man, who was to all intents and purposes all that she had left in the world.

“What do you mean?” asked Ethan, his brow furrowed in confusion as he wasted no time in dragging Vanessa back onto his lap. She settled there after a few moments, looking rather uncomfortable to say the least since she was hardly used to such displays of affection. Ethan seemed to be adapting to that far more quickly than she, although she suspected that the reason for such was the fact that he had not grown up within strict English society as she had.

“Looking for Freya,” Vanessa continued, stilling Ethan with one palm pressed to his chest, “when perhaps she does not wish to be found. We have no way of knowing what happened with Dahlia. I can sense her energy close by but…”

“But what?” Ethan demanded, striving to iron out the lines of concern he felt etched into his own face. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Van?”

Seeing Ethan’s concern for her, she shook her head to calm his fears. “No, no my love, nothing like that. I… I can feel her presence, her energy… but there is darkness there, somehow.”

Ethan sat up straighter, his arms tightening around her body on impulse, “ _Darkness_? How, so?”

Having waited more than a lifetime to be with the woman he loved, there was no way he’d allow them both to go striding headfirst into trouble; not when his experience told him that trouble usually found them just fine, without encouraging its arrival.

Vanessa frowned, shaking her head as she replied distractedly, “I do not know. But there is loss… and pain. I think… I think perhaps she needs our help, but I cannot be sure. After so many years of slumber, I warrant that my abilities are a little… rusty.”

She smiled softly as she felt his fingertips slip beneath the hem of her blouse and begin to gently caress the bare skin of her back. Leaning forward she pressed her forehead to his, almost mirroring the pose he had held her in for peaceful decades.

“She has given us so much, Ethan. I must help her if I can.”

Reassured by the warmth of her skin beneath his touch and the slow, measured beat of her heart against his chest, Ethan nodded in agreement. “ _We’ll_ help her. We’re in this thing together, remember?”

Nodding at the recollection, Vanessa smiled, and this time her eyes shone with affection and something he was rapidly beginning to recognise as happiness. “How could I forget? You gave up your life for me.”

“No,” he countered, inclining his neck to seek out her lips. Her breath was warm against his cheek, and he found himself once again rejoicing at the newly established intimacy they had entered in to. No longer afraid of the demon possessing her mind, Vanessa was free to love and be loved – and the desire they had once been forced to dampen was free to burn with a passion that was all consuming. “I wanted a life _with_ you.”

“You have me, Mr. Chandler,” she replied, caressing his jaw before slanting her lips against his in a hungry kiss that left them both pleasantly breathless. Lost to everything but each other, they didn’t hear the unfamiliar sound of the key card being slid into the lock outside the door, and their appointed guardian had strode into the room before Vanessa had had a chance to extricate herself from her lover’s knee.

“Reggie…” Ethan growled, sighing resolutely as the great-great grandson of his late friend, Kateanay, merely rolled his eyes and kicked the door closed with the back of his boot.

“Relax, you ain’t doing nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” he replied flatly, digging his hand into the pockets of his jacket as he watched Vanessa slip wordlessly from Ethan’s lap and deposit herself more demurely into the adjacent chair.

“Well, we’re not from around these parts,” Ethan deadpanned, causing Reggie to guffaw his amusement. He swiped a large, browned hand in Ethan’s direction, his grin so wide that it split his face almost in two.

“Like I could forget it,” he retorted, “you two love birds are the reason my people have been standing guard outside some cave in the dessert for over a hundred years.”

“Your help has been greatly appreciated, Reggie,” Vanessa spoke up quickly to assure the man, who seemed to blush under her attention, as usual.

“I know, I’m just joking around with you,” he promised them both, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it on the pull out couch that had served as his makeshift bed for the last several nights.

“Are you any closer at all to finding our friend?” pressed Vanessa almost immediately, unable to quell the sense of unease and even sorrow that coursed through her veins whenever she thought long enough about Freya. She assumed that the sensations were a side effect of whatever the witch was going through at present, which Vanessa could only assume was some sort of situation that was causing her the utmost distress.

“I asked around a little in the French quarter,” Reggie stated, straightening up a little as he added, “but I hightailed it out of there when I caught the attention of some undead folks.”

“Vampires?” Ethan’s expression fell, and he had reached for Vanessa’s hand before he even realised he had moved. It appeared that even in the next century, their lives would be over-shadowed by the supernatural creatures of darkness.

“Yeah, yeah. But nothing for you to worry about. New Orleans? It’s not just a melting pot of peoples, the whole city’s been the playground of every witch, vampire, and werewolf for over two hundred years… right about the time your friend’s family settled here. That big old ‘M’ stamped everywhere?” Reggie laughed in evident amusement, “that’s for Mikaelson. Seems like your witchy friend comes from supernatural royalty. But uh… wherever she is now, she ain’t in this city.”

Reggie threw himself down onto the worn cushions of the couch with evident boredom. “And that’s fine by me because I fuckin’ hate vampires.”

Vanessa nodded, standing up and walking over towards the double doors that led out onto a small balcony. “I cannot say I am especially fond of them myself but… Freya is here. I can feel her.”

Reggie smirked, digging in his pocket and retrieving his cell phone, which he began to examine for messages. Arching a dark eyebrow, he was about to reply with a suitably sardonic retort regarding the rather intimate situation he’d walked in on, when Vanessa turned on her heel, her expression thunderous.

“There will be time for your endlessly charming display of wit later on, Reggie… I must insist that you find Freya Mikaelson at once. Time is of the essence.” Though she had no real evidence to base that assumption on, Vanessa’s sixth sense had never betrayed her before, and there was no reason to assume her powers would fail her this time.

“I’m telling you…” Reggie began, his attention suddenly seized by the sound of a message being received on his phone. “I asked around, and she ain’t here.”

Growing more irritated by the second, Ethan stood up and snatched the phone from his new friend’s hand like a father chastising his child. He answered Reggie’s indignant yelp with a glare that sent the man shrinking back into his seat.

“If Van says she’s here, she’s here alright.”

Taking a few further steps out onto the balcony, Vanessa gripped the edge of the wooden rail, her fingers curling around the weather worn barrier as she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Almost at once she felt the presence of others like her, perhaps low level witches or voodoo practitioners, or the psychics who preyed upon tourists in the old quarter. And there, above the din and chaos, she felt the swelling power of another; another whose gifts more closely resembled her own. A natural witch - a practitioner of the oldest of arts.

Turning to face the two men, Vanessa Ives smiled serenely and her eyelids flickered open.

“She’s not only here… she’s waiting for us.”

 


	3. I'm A Goodbye That Came All Too Soon

**_I’m A Farewell That Came All Too Soon_ **

**_3_ **

****

**_New Orleans_ **

**_1 st May_ **

The wolves were restless; stirred up into a frenzy by the murder of their alpha and loyal friend. Hayley had been so much to so many, and Freya genuinely feared how New Orleans’ supernatural society was beginning to crumble rapidly without her. It could only bring bloodshed and more death if she couldn’t find a way to repair the fracture lines running through their various communities. Vincent was out with the witches, doing whatever he could to soothe fears and tempers alike, whilst Marcel was holding court over the vampires and attempting to keep tabs on the known betrayers. Thus it had fallen somehow to Freya to work things out with the wolves. It was a formidable task at best and a hopeless one at worst - trying to reign in those who were ruled by the moon.

She was currently attempting to assuage Lisina and the tall, muscular wolf named Beau who had accompanied her to the Mikaelson compound. They were all but baying for blood; specifically that of the vampire variety, since the wolves felt that it was they who were to blame for Hayley’s death. Freya couldn’t really argue with their logic since every accusation they levelled at the vampires had proven to be true. However, there was no way she could allow the wolves to go steaming through the quarter, doling out their own vigilante brand of justice in a blind attempt to seek retribution for their queen. And so, Freya poured endless cups of chamomile tea, offered around plates of beignets, and prayed to the goddess that something she said would somehow manage to calm them. If all else failed, she supposed she could start slipping wolfsbane into the tea, although that would most certainly cause more harm than good in the long run.

“When is Klaus going to take action?” demanded Lisina, pushing her teacup aside without care. She had already downed three cups of Freya’s vile concoction and it had done little but leave a foul taste lingering in the back of her mouth. She knew better than to refuse Mikaelson hospitality though.

Freya shot the woman a pointed look, narrowing her eyes as she briefly contemplated the thoughtlessness of the wolf’s demands. Their family was grieving, and the crescent wolves needed to understand that the business of ruling over the city and its various supernatural elements came second to ensuring that Hope was okay.

“Klaus’ main concern right now is his daughter,” Freya bit back, rapidly losing her patience and what remained of her temper. “You think your people miss Hayley? Imagine how Hope feels.”

When she glanced up from her cup she noted with mild satisfaction that Beau at least appeared to have taken her words to heart.

“Maybe we should go, Lis,” he suggested, suddenly appearing uncomfortable and perhaps a little guilty at having stormed into the Mikaelson compound when the family had been plunged into such unimaginable grief only days before. His hand hovered above Lisina’s shoulder but she shrugged him away before he could lay a finger on her.

“I know loss, Freya,” Lisina hissed, her hand trembling violently around the saucer, “or did you forget about Henry already? Hope’s best friend… the kid who died because of her blood… because…”

“Enough!” Freya all but snarled, her fingers clenching so that her hands formed fists on the table top. Whilst she could respect that Lisina was indeed still mourning the death of her young charge, Henry, he had not been bound to her by blood the same way that Hayley had been to the Mikaelson clan. Lisina had come relatively late into the boy’s life, stepping up admittedly selflessly as his guardian when his parents had been killed in a car accident that had also taken the life of Henry’s little sister. The whole event had been a terrible tragedy, but it had occurred when Henry was approaching his twelfth birthday, meaning that Lisina had acted as the boy’s guardian for no more than four years before he had been so cruelly snatched from her. It was nothing in Freya’s eyes to the fifteen years she had spent by Hayley’s side, or the visible pain on Hope’s face every time she simply glanced at her aunt.

“Henry deserves more than this,” whispered Lisina, a tear splashing from the corner of her eye and landing on the back of her hand, “Hayley deserves more than this. We cannot let this… this filth go unpunished for what they have done. Snatching innocent lives away for… for blind hatred!”

Freya swallowed hard, Greta’s grinning face dominating her mind for just a second before she managed to push it away. At least she was dead and gone, Freya reminded herself. Hayley’s final act of defiance had been to take the leader of the Nazi vampire faction out; to burn her body to ash and dust in the sunlight, alongside her own. A sigh escaped Freya as she found herself recounting Klaus’ garbled explanation of what exactly had transpired that day at the cottage. Then, she was entertaining thoughts of Elijah again, which had her pursing her lips against a wave of irritation that threatened to overwhelm her. If she did not work hard enough to tamp down her own fury and disgust at the way things had been allowed to play out – at the way Elijah himself had allowed the situation to conclude – then Freya would doubtlessly find herself running through the French quarter beheading vampires right alongside the crescents. And that would never do. She was better than that. Hayley would want them all to be better than that.

As if growing weary of the fruitless discussion, Lisina climbed to her feet and pressed her palms to the table in a stance Freya couldn’t help but interpret as threatening. But the wolf caught herself quickly, not in a hurry to rile the infamous Mikaelson witch, or to potentially face the wrath of her arguably more infamous hybrid brother.

Licking her lips in an almost nervous fashion, Lisina took a steadying breath as she issued her ultimatum.

“Tell Marcel and Vincent that they’ve got 48 hours to make up their minds. After that? We take matters into our own hands.”

 

x-x-x

 

“Wait here, she’s been expecting you!” the day walker instructed curtly, casting a lingering and not wholly innocent gaze over the witch he had escorted into the compound with her two male counterparts. His flirtatious grin was instantly met by a sigh of tedium from the object of his apparent desire, and yet he seemed to find her dismissal of him somehow intriguing. He could feel the power that bled from her, but there was something else within her that had captured him - a darkness that he felt drawn to.

“We’re waiting,” Ethan raised his eyebrows expectantly at the vampire, placing his hand in the small of Vanessa’s back. The set of his jaw dared the vampire to make an advance.

“Might as well take a load off,” Reggie stated, moving a chair back from the table and sitting down diplomatically, hoping to end the stand-off between the two natural enemies.

“Impressive place you’ve got here,” he enthused, scanning the compound and knotting his hands over his stomach. He peered up at the expansive balconies and numerous windows that dotted the interior walls, barely managing to resist the urge to let out a long, low whistle of appreciation.

The vampire scowled in response, nodding towards the table and directing his barked instructions it appeared solely at Ethan. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Ethan crooned, folding his arms across his chest. He appeared set on standing.

Rolling his eyes, the vampire took off down a corridor, Ethan’s glare following every step he took. Vanessa gently but firmly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, shaking her head rather pointedly at his attitude when he finally elected to look down at her.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice carrying a note of warning that he found himself unable to ignore, “we are not here to make new enemies, my love.”

Despite his thoughts on the matter, and his feelings in general towards those of a blood sucking persuasion, Ethan bobbed his head. Vanessa was right, as usual, and he would do well to remember as much when he felt his fury and natural tendency for sarcasm vying for control of his better nature.

“I’ll behave,” was Ethan’s eventual reply, punctuated by the kiss he dropped to the crown of Vanessa’s head. Despite the modern clothing that she wore, at Reggie’s emphatic insistence, Vanessa had still taken the time that morning to weave her hair into the most intricate braid befitting of their own time that Ethan thought he had ever seen. He supposed it was her one little rebellion, and Reggie had certainly seemed to let it slide, although his eyes had ticked over her appearance somewhat judgmentally before they had left the motel.

The instinct to protect Vanessa was almost overwhelming in their current situation and, although Ethan couldn’t be certain that they were in any imminent danger, he felt the territorial nature of the wolf begin to stir within him; and the wolf, it seemed, was just as set on protecting its mate as Ethan.

As if almost anticipating his actions, Vanessa didn’t so much as flinch when Ethan’s arm wove around her waist. She recognised that their history with vampires was more than enough to have all of their nerves on edge.

Narrowing his eyes as he pondered the small amount of information he recalled Freya ever having imparted to them, Ethan directed his curiosity to Reggie. “So how is it that our witch friend has a whole gaggle of vampire siblings?”

Reggie shrugged, appearing far too relaxed and at ease in the courtyard for Ethan’s liking. Sighing out a slow, deep breath, the man cast his eyes up towards the heavens, calling on the little knowledge he retained of the famous – and feared – Mikaelson clan.

“Well, from what my grandpa told me, there were… I dunno… six or seven kids… their mom, who as it turns out was just about the most powerful witch who ever lived, cursed them all with immortality. And…” he waved his arms in a grand gesture that screamed ‘ta-da’, “hey presto, you got yourself the world’s very first vampires.”

With a frown, he added, “Oh, except for the one brother. Turns out the mom had been stepping out with some werewolf.”

“Which would have made him a hybrid…” Vanessa guessed, piecing together the rest of the story, as far as Freya was concerned anyway. “Freya was taken by her aunt as a child, brought up away from her family. She would not have been there to see her siblings turned.”

Shaking her head, she added in an almost pained whisper, “But why would a mother inflict such darkness upon her children?!”

Reggie shrugged, anxious to get to the end of the story and less concerned with Esther’s maternal failings, which seemed to trouble Vanessa so much.

“Anyway, so yeah… the first hybrid. The most powerful creature in existence, and a crazy fucker too if all of the stories are true.”

Ethan huffed out a groan that brought a hint of a smile to Vanessa’s lips. Whilst she was certain that no sibling of Freya’s would wish to cause them any harm, she understood Ethan’s feelings on the matter. It had, after all, been Dracula’s relentless pursuit of her that had almost cost Vanessa her life. To be there now, strangers in a different time, far removed from all they had known and loved, was disconcerting enough in itself without throwing yet more vampires into the mix.

“Wonderful. And we’re standing in his parlour,” Ethan muttered, his lips drawn into a tight line as he processed the rather unpalatable information.

Vanessa’s fingers curled around Ethan’s elbow in a comforting move that had Reggie chuckling into the sleeve of his shirt. The couple ignored him, as they had been doing for the better part of a week already. Reggie’s intentions and heart were both pure enough, but his attempts at humour could most definitely use a little work in Ethan’s opinion.

“We are safe,” Vanessa assured him, her lips twitching as she thwarted a grim smile, “the moment we are not, I will know.”

Ethan said nothing, and instead reached across the small expanse of space separating them in order to cup her cheek with his palm. She leaned into the welcome touch, eyes closing for a beat whilst she allowed the familiar scent of him to wash over her.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he promised, although it was clear from the mirth that danced behind his eyes that he was joking, beginning to relax enough to at least make an attempt at sarcasm.

Turning her cheek towards his touch, Vanessa rested her hand over his and offered him a gentle smile that had been so rare in their previous life together.

Though they had talked about the friends and family they had left behind, and about the forces of evil that had sought to make Vanessa Ives their bride, they had not spoken of the moment she had contemplated taking her own life. She felt foolish for having even considered it, but her soul had been weary and she had thought herself alone in her fight against a foe who was relentless in his pursuit of her. Ethan of course blamed himself for leaving, for causing her heartbreak. She knew she would never forget the expression of horror on his face when he had found her holding his pistol in her bedroom. It had been that moment of indecision when she had found his eyes upon her that had stopped her in her tracks.

The only mention Ethan had made of the episode had been after they had awoken from their magic induced slumber. The first night they had spent together, he had whispered into the darkness as he held her, ‘ _To lose you would have destroyed me_.’

Leaning back in his seat as he eyed them with interest – and a hint of mischief – Reggie enquired through a provocative smirk, “So, Ethan… you gonna take Beyonce’s advice and put a ring on it?”

Reggie quickly remembered his audience, however, when he was met with two blank stares that instantly made him feel foolish for the pop culture reference.

“I keep forgetting you two are… old.”

“You should never comment on a lady’s age, Reggie,” Vanessa chided, her lips pursed to contain a chuckle, “I would assume that is still the case?”

Reggie seemed poised to reply when a creak from the balcony above the courtyard drew the group’s collective attention. Ethan whirled around, reflexively shoving Vanessa behind him, his eyes fixed on the perceived threat. Reggie was on his feet at a somewhat less hurried pace but still the look on his face indicated that he was ready for action, should the need arise.

Vanessa craned her neck around her lover’s body, her eyes seeking the cause of the disturbance. She managed only to see a flash of auburn hair and hear a snarl rumble from Ethan’s chest before he was shoving her down to the courtyard stone, shielding her body with his. They landed nose to nose, and the air left Vanessa’s lungs in a whoosh, leaving her breathless and aching on the ground as Ethan sprang back to his feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled out, voice sounding guttural and enraged. He moved as though to dash for the stairs that would carry him up to the first floor but he halted in his tracks when Reggie’s body was sent careering past him into the stone pillar that stood parallel to the stair bannister.

Kneeling on the cold ground, Vanessa pressed her palms to the stone, tendrils of hair whipping her cheeks due to the suddenly violent breeze that assaulted them.

Ethan watched her wide eyed, listening to the incantation that almost absently tumbled from her lips. He started as the ground under their feet began to tremble, like he was standing on a rug that an unseen hand was trying desperately to pull out from beneath him.

From his position on the floor, Reggie seemed transfixed by Vanessa and yet simultaneously terrified. His alarm only exponentially increased when a previously unseen figure walked almost languidly down the stairs. Raising her hand towards the group of strangers, Hope fixed a snarl on her face as she flicked her wrist, expecting the newcomers to be tossed against the far wall of the compound. But they remained untouched, apparently protected by the incantation the raven haired witch recited.

“We mean you no harm…” Vanessa shouted above the swirling winds, climbing to her feet and turning to regard the younger witch, who appeared to be little more than a child.

Repeating her earlier actions to no avail, the youngest Mikaelson’s brows knitted into a deep frown as she looked down at first her own hands, and then glared in fury at the intruder. She had felt the woman’s power; the darkness that Vanessa kept at bay yet that was still inherently part of her nature and always would be.

“How are you doing that?” Hope yelled, teenage petulance quickly becoming indignance.

She drew to a halt at the foot of the staircase, her own hair rising above her shoulders behind her, buffeted on the supernatural wind that the meeting of two powerful witches had evoked.

“My name is Vanessa Ives,” explained the older woman, her voice ringing with authority, which she hoped would have the desired effect on the girl. Instead, the teen flung her right hand out again, whispered words of French spilling from her lips. The magic erupted from her palm and fingertips in a flash of yellow light, which careered towards Vanessa and her party faster than the naked eye was perhaps even capable of seeing.

With a single word to counter the spell, Vanessa deflected the intended blow, wincing when it doubled back and reverberated on its caster. The raw energy, no doubt fuelled by both terror and rage, hit Hope square in the chest and sent her tumbling backwards. She landed against the stone steps in an ungainly heap of limbs, letting out a pained yelp as her head struck the edge of one of the stairs. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment but she did not lose consciousness, and Vanessa heaved a sigh of relief. Despite the girl’s advances, she could sense that they were truly in no real danger; that her reactions were mostly instinctual, spurred on by the feelings of grief that radiated from her, and perhaps even the slightest hint of fear of those who had hurt her before.

“I am sorry, little one,” Vanessa said, lowering her hands to her sides and rising to her feet with all her usual elegance still miraculously intact. Ethan crossed the courtyard in a few strides and extended a hand to Reggie, who accepted the help with a look of gratitude. When he managed to drag himself into a standing position, his legs still trembled like jelly.

Careful to maintain a cautious distance, Vanessa walked closer to the girl, noting the suspicious and almost anxious expression on her face with inherent sadness. For everything Vanessa was and all that evil had tried in vain to make her, she possessed a kind heart, and hurting a child was the very last thing she would ever feel inclined to do.

“We’re not here to harm you, I promise,” Vanessa reiterated, carefully extending her hand as her eyes locked on the girl’s. She seemed to have given up on their confrontation and lay still in something of a mangled heap on the ground. Casting her gaze over the little witch, Vanessa felt a spark of recognition, and it was only when she had managed to coax the girl’s hand into her own that she finally made the connection; the woman in her dreams.

“I am an old friend of Freya’s, from very long ago. She helped me once and… I thought we were here to repay that debt. But now I know…” smiling almost sadly as she felt the child’s very visceral grief, Vanessa stated with unnerving confidence, “we’re here to help your mother.”

“M-mom?” Hope demanded, her fingers closing immediately around Vanessa’s. She pressed in a breathless rush that made her seem not a moment older than her fifteen years, “What do you know about my mom? Can you fix this? Can you fix what I did?”

Vanessa’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of surprise, and she cocked her head as she observed the girl closer. She bore a startling similarity to the wolf from the visions; the same delicate, straight nose, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her eyes were of the truest blue that Vanessa had perhaps ever seen, which she assumed was a trait inherited from her father, but she was otherwise very much her mother’s daughter.

“May I?” inquired Vanessa politely, raising her free hand and gesturing to Hope’s temple. The girl sucked in a breath, fast and loud, but nodded her head to suggest that for the moment Vanessa had won her trust.

The second that her fingertips connected with the cool skin of Hope’s face, Vanessa’s eyes slammed shut. Her mind was filled with such images of torment that she let out a cry, which would have sent Ethan running to her aid if it were not for the restraining hand Reggie had clamped onto his shoulder. Fire, blood, ash, pain, darkness, chaos, hatred, rained down upon Vanessa until she could take it no more, and she was forced to pry her hand away from Hope - to close off her mind to the girl’s suffering.

Swallowing hard to stem the bitter taste she felt rising up from the back of her throat, along with the smell of ashes that seemed to pervade her nostrils, Vanessa blinked against the tears caught on her lashes.

“I am truly sorry for your loss,” she said kindly, and Hope could do no more than nod and try to subdue the quiver in her lip. Her heart ached for the child and she was overcome with a sense of urgency that had perhaps been building since the first night she had dreamt of the crescent wolf. Filled with renewed purpose, Vanessa was determined that they would do all within their collective power to help Hope, for she was certain that the grief she had detected in Freya was born from the same bereavement.

“I think perhaps it’s time I spoke to your…” Vanessa levelled a thoughtful expression at the child before she guessed, “aunt?”

Now flanked by Ethan and Reggie, Vanessa tilted her head towards the werewolf beside her, who seemed to have the girl affixed in a curiously analytical stare; the wolf had recognised one of his own and Hope too seemed to return the quizzical expression with something akin to acknowledgement.

Her brow creased as she peered up at him, Hope stated rather than enquired, “You’re one of the old ones… the first of my mom’s kind.”

She appeared confused by the energy she was receiving, but it was there nonetheless.

“But how? Wolves aren’t immortal and you’d have to be like…” she shook her head and decided not to attempt the math, which had never been her strong suit, “really, really old.”

“Hope!”

A frenzied cry shattered the long look that was being passed between Hope and Ethan, and seconds later the sound of heels assaulting the courtyard stones heralded the arrival of someone Vanessa had waited so long to see again.

“Freya…” she breathed, turning on her heel quickly, one hand floating midway in the air as though she didn’t quite know what to do with it in her confusion.

The blonde witch stopped in her tracks, seeming hardly surprised by Ethan and Vanessa’s appearance, and yet rendered undoubtedly emotional by it. She mouthed the name of her old friend, her fingers gripping the hem of her own blouse too tight, and then the two women were running across the yard to greet each other. Hope could not tell exactly who had fallen into whose arms first, but her aunt and the brunette witch became nothing but an unintelligible tangle of limbs within seconds.

Hope’s eyes ticked again to Ethan, who watched the scene with the most gentle smile playing across his lips that nobody would possibly suspect the nature of the beast contained within his body. He reminded her somewhat of her father in that respect, and Hope pushed away the thought as an unwelcome jolt of pain seized her heart. She was trying her best to be mature about it all since it was her own childish clamouring for her father’s attention that had initially started the whole mess the Mikaelsons found themselves in the midst of. She understood why Klaus, Rebecca and Kol had to stay away – she was unspeakably grateful that Elijah must too – but that didn’t mean that she was immune to the hurt it caused when she considered that she had lost the rest of her family alongside her mom.

“Vanessa… I’d nearly given up hope…” Freya was crying into the woman’s hair, undoing the complicated braid that must have taken her an age to fashion in the process. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“We are here… we are well. All thanks to you,” Vanessa replied, drawing back to look at her friend and instantly breaking out into a sentimental smile that was only tempered by perhaps a hint of sadness. “It was so very long ago, but… for Ethan and I it feels like merely days have passed.”

Freya hugged Vanessa once more – the only confidante she had ever managed to secretly make under Dahlia’s ever watchful presence – and then turned her attention to the man waiting patiently for his turn to embrace her.

“Ethan,” she held on to him like she might never let go before eventually drawing back to look up at him with an expression that displayed the deep respect and affection she had always felt for him. To have given up his life and everything he knew to remain by the side of the woman he loved was the sort of romantic sacrifice Freya had not encountered before or indeed after, in all her centuries of living.

“I didn’t know when you would awaken, but…” she glanced between the pair, noting with a shiver of satisfaction how the looks that passed between them were as lingering and full of adoration as they had been a century prior. “I knew when you did, that if I were to ever see you again, you would be beside her.”

Ethan ducked his head, his cheeks colouring just slightly as he found himself basking in Freya’s familiar and infectious smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for giving us our lives back, Freya,” he said, deep voice husky and raw with emotion, yet still managing to boom across the compound.

The daywalker who had gone to fetch Freya seemed to take the pause in the reunion as his somewhat awkward cue to leave, and the unnatural speed with which he moved did not go unnoticed by Ethan. His eyes followed the figure of the retreating vampire before landing back on Freya, who had the decency to look a little chagrined. She couldn’t blame Ethan for being shocked or even disappointed by her own affiliation with the species, even if that came without fault of her own from the family she had been born into.

When she had met Vanessa and then subsequently Ethan back in the 1800s, she had known very little about her birth family, beyond the half-truths and twisted titbits that Dahlia offered her. It had been Vanessa’s power that had prematurely dragged Freya and then Dahlia herself from their slumber, but the slight delay in the latter had been just enough time to allow the former to make her escape at last.

Alone, vulnerable, and afraid, Freya had elected to seek out the source of power that had awoken her, as opposed to running from it. Although she knew that Dahlia would likewise do the same, attracted to the formidable witch like a moth to a flame, Freya recognised that Vanessa would perhaps be her best chance at permanently escaping the cruel clutches of her aunt permanently. And so, with no real comprehension of what she would find when she arrived there, Freya had followed a magical breadcrumb trail all the way to Grandage Place, where she had met a woman with whom her connection was instantaneous.

Blinking away the memories, Freya flashed Ethan a smile, hoping to convey to him the words that it would be far too awkward to speak aloud; they were both safe here, among friends, without doubt or question.

Chancing a glance over towards Hope, Vanessa linked her arm through Ethan’s as Freya began to lead them up the steps towards the upper rooms of the compound.

“I thought it was your pain that I felt when we arrived, but… now I know we’re here to help another.”

Freya had the decency not to look even remotely surprised by Vanessa’s perhaps spiritually aided assessment of the situation. She nodded with sadness, gesturing to the room that lay behind a set of French doors.

“I’ll make us some tea, and then… then I think we need to talk. I’m sorry this reunion isn’t the happy one we’d all have wanted.”

Vanessa shook her head, her blue eyes cast downwards and her lips forming into a disapproving frown.

“It is what it needs to be,” she dismissed Freya’s apology instantly. “Besides, it is good to have a friend here… here in this new world we find ourselves in.”

Smiling at the characteristically understanding response, Freya appeared momentarily more animated, as if allowing herself to enjoy their reunion to at least some small degree. It had, after all, been over 120 years since the two women had last seen each other.

“You must stay here… we have plenty of room, and… honestly, it’d be nice to have you guys around. It’s been far too quiet lately.”

“Well I can always be relied upon to cause a commotion,” Ethan joked, only needing to meet Vanessa’s approving gaze for a moment before he nodded readily, “we’d be delighted to stay. Besides, it seems you and Van have a lot to discuss.”

Freya’s grin was immediate and, for the first time in days, actually believable. Hope watched her aunt with open curiosity, wracking her brain to think of a time she had seen her so happy and alive. Of course she was equally content in Keelin’s company, but the recent physical distance between the witch and her girlfriend had proven difficult for Freya to bear. It was yet another thing that was eroding her smile slowly but surely, and Hope was sad to see Freya’s spirits plummeting alongside her own. Although Hope herself was miserable, she wished only peace for her family.

It was evident that the bond between the two women had never ventured beyond that of friendship, and nor would it, especially if the way the wolf named Ethan tracked the brunette witch with his eyes was anything to go by.

“Great… I guess I… I’ll be in my room…” mumbled Hope, doing her best to offer the visitors a departing smile. She feared the gesture was a little too watery to be believable, but she raised a hand anyway in a wave and spun around.

She called out over her shoulder as she raced up the stairs, “Sorry about the whole attacking you thing!”

Seconds later, Hope disappeared from view and the slamming of a heavy, old door signified that they would not hear from her again for at least a while. The sigh Freya heaved shook her bones, and Vanessa rested a hand in the small of her friend’s back.

“Reggie, you can take the room second on the left,” Freya directed, receiving a nod of thanks from the man in reply. Pausing for a moment, she regarded Vanessa uncertainly, “And you and Ethan… or if you’d rather your own rooms, I…”

She trailed off with a shrug, uncertain as to where the couple might stand in regard to such matters. Things had been so different in that era, Freya recalled.

Vanessa laughed but a hint of pink coloured her cheeks as she looked up at Ethan. The glance they exchanged was clearly a brief flirtation. “One room will be perfectly adequate, thank you.”

Ethan smirked as he pressed closer to Vanessa and felt her shiver the moment his breath tickled the nape of her neck.

“Perfectly,” he echoed, waiting until she had turned to regard him and then offering her a mischievous wink that caused her smile to widen until it morphed into a huff of laughter.

Freya bit back a giggle of her own, gesturing to the ornate couches that sat at right angles in the lounge. “Please, sit… I’ll make that tea, and see if I can’t find us all something to eat. Might be takeout tonight, sorry, not really had a chance for a grocery store run.”

Raising his hand slightly, Reggie cleared his throat, “Well I think I might go and check us out of the motel, ma’am, and gather up our belongings. I can stop by the store if you tell me what you need?!”

Freya opened her mouth to respond, grateful for the small act of kindness from a stranger, which she had begun to realise of late was such a rare commodity in a world that was all too often out for itself. However, she didn’t get the chance to answer the man before Ethan, tone peppered heavily with curiosity, voiced the question that had immediately sprung to Vanessa’s mind also.

“What’s… ‘takeout’?”

 


	4. I Need A Big God

_**Mikaelson Compound, New Orleans** _

_**1st**_ _**May**_

A plate of cold pizza clutched in one hand, Freya raised the other and rapped sharply on the door in front of her. There was no response, as she had predicted, but if she strained her ears then she could just about make out the sound of shuffling emanating from the bedroom.

"Come on, sweetheart, I know you're in there," Freya finally called out, adding almost hopefully, "I brought pizza. Meat feast with pineapple."

Several seconds elapsed and Freya was met with no response. When she was poised to set down the plate in front of the door and walk away, a voice finally greeted her from the other side of the barrier.

"I'm not hungry."

Freya blew out the breath she had been holding from between pursed lips and puffed cheeks. She supposed even a handful of words was progress from stony silence and weeping.

"You have to eat, Hope," she reasoned, wincing as she realised how pathetic her plea sounded. She had been in Hope's position; the one struggling to stay afloat in the sea of grief, when all she had really wanted was to allow the current to drag her down too. Eating had seemed like a trivial idea to her then also.

The door was wrenched open before Freya had time to blink, revealing Hope on the threshold, her eyes red rimmed and raw. She had pulled her hair up in a haphazard bun, and over the top of her pyjama pants she wore Hayley's favourite Nirvana t-shirt.

A tiny smile twitched on Freya's lips as she gestured down to the picture stretched out over Hope's chest.

"Your dad partied with Cobain once, you know," she stated, both arms still encircling the plate of pizza as though it might protect her from Hope's wrath, which had been prone to rising from nowhere of late. "I bet he'd like to tell you about it… well, the PG-13 parts anyway."

She was met by a blank stare, and Hope moved as though to toe the door closed.

Out of desperation, Freya called out, "We could listen to some Nirvana together if you want? Have ourselves a little slumber party? I'm really more of an early Britney kind of girl but…"

"I don't like Nirvana," Hope interjected, tone as flat as her expression, "they were overrated. I picked it out of Mom's hamper. She didn't have time to do laundry before… well… It just still smells like her is all."

Freya swallowed hard, and suddenly the smell of the pizza made her own stomach roll. She didn't want to give her niece false hope but she needed to at least bring her some comfort by revealing that maybe, just maybe, they had a way to put things right.

"I haven't given up yet, Hope. I promise. If there's a way to bring your mom back home, we will."

Hope stared down at the floor, her fingers absently twisting around the doorknob as she asked, "So… your friend… she's like some bad-ass witch, huh?"

Freya nodded, "She is. And you know what's better than one bad-ass witch? Two."

Gesturing down to herself she smiled, pleased to at least have coaxed at least a mildly positive look from the young girl.

With a deep sigh, Hope consented to accept the plate of pizza, "Yeah, well she sounds like Mary Poppins."

Freya watched her toy with the edges of the crust, concerned that at least some of it might end up in her stomach. If they did indeed manage to bring Hayley back, she'd almost certainly be furious if her daughter hadn't been well taken care of. And of course Freya doted on Hope as if she were her own anyway.

"She does," Freya whispered, pressing a finger to her lips and rolling her eyes towards the end of the hall where Ethan and Vanessa slept. Hope smiled briefly, realising her aunt was playing along purely to try to cheer her up.

"She could be the answer to our prayers, Hope. And if she can help us… I know she will."

Nodding her head, Hope took in a slow, unsteady breath, determined to swallow down her tears in favour of the determined spirit she knew her mother had possessed.

"Okay," she leaned forward awkwardly over the plate of pizza and sought out the comfort of her aunt's embrace.

Hope remained that way for a few moments before finally drawing away and peering down at the plate with a slight rumble of hunger in the pit of her stomach. Still not entirely certain as to whether or not she could stomach the pizza, she lifted up a slice for closer inspection.

"Did you get extra cheese?"

"You think I'd forget the cheese?!" Freya slapped her hand to her chest as if physically wounded at the accusation that she could possibly forget how her beloved niece liked her pizza. Hope chuckled and suddenly all of the effort to tempt her to a cold, fast food dinner seemed worth it.

Letting her slip back inside her fortress, Freya proceeded to her own bedroom, her steps a little lighter. For the first time in days, she dared to feel her usual optimism return to her. Perhaps this time, things would be okay.

x-x-x

Ethan sat on the edge of the impossibly grand four poster bed, his eyes trained on the woman perched in front of the dressing table, brushing out her dark mane.

He untied the laces on his boots and kicked them off, as he did so his eyes connecting with Vanessa's through the glass of the mirror she sat before. A long look exchanged, he rose to his feet and began to cross the room.

Placing the silver brush down on the dresser, Vanessa allowed her fingers to trace over the intricate pattern on the back of the handle. Her mind wandered to an almost identical set that had rested on her dressing table in Grandage Place. The idea that all of that – along with Sir Malcolm himself – was long gone, brought a spasm of pain to her chest. She thought that maybe when their task was completed in New Orleans, she would endeavour to find out what had happened to those they had once shared their lives with.

Ethan's hand landed on her shoulder, and she closed her eyes as she leaned her head against his arm. He bowed down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling against her lips when she turned to seek out a more lingering kiss.

With narrowed eyes Ethan regarded their reflections in the mirror, and his happiness at what he saw was evident.

"How is it that, even after holding you in my arms for a hundred and twenty years, I still can't quite believe that I get to wake up with you each morning?"

Pretending to ponder his question for a second, Vanessa rose and slid her arms around him.

"Well…" pressing closer, she caressed the back of his neck and teased his lips with her own, "we were not naked in the cave, Mr. Chandler, whereas this morning I awoke completely removed of my nightgown…"

She arched an eyebrow, as if to appear scandalised by the idea, although she had certainly been a willing participant in their lovemaking when Reggie had stepped out to get coffee.

Ethan's laughter rumbled against her chest and he nodded in ready agreement.

"Well, there is that, I guess."

They moved back against the bed as one, arms and legs entwined still and lips locked together. Vanessa's calves hit the bed frame and she tumbled backwards, although there was a certain dramatic facade to her movements. Ethan went with her, careful not to crush her as he landed on top of her. He used one hand to support his weight against the mattress and the other he smoothed down Vanessa's hip, watching as she shuddered in pleasure at the contact.

However, the couple paused in unison when the sound of voices emanating from the hallway drifted beneath their door. They could just about pick out Freya's words but Hope's mumbled replies were lost to them, especially given the noises of traffic from outside which filtered in through the open window.

Immediately Vanessa's expression darkened, and Ethan withdraw a little on instinct, sensing that the mood had altered. He couldn't find it within himself to be resentful though; their friend was hurting, and there was a child who had lost her mother under the most vile circumstances.

They heard a door close and then quiet footsteps padded down the corridor, suggesting that Freya had retreated back to her own room. Ethan supposed she had been attempting to foist some sort of sustenance on her niece, who had remained locked away in her proverbial tower for the whole evening. She hadn't even joined them when the pizza delivery man had arrived, carrying three of the largest boxes of the most delectable cheesy, doughy concoction that Ethan had ever tasted. Freya had tried her hardest to coax Hope from her self-imposed exile but she had been met with silence until she had resigned herself to giving up for a little while.

Over dinner and a few more drinks than could really be described as merely sociable, Freya had poured out her story to her friends. Dahlia, her escape, finding her siblings, Klaus and Hayley and their magical, miracle baby… and then had come the Hollow. The name in itself was enough to draw a shudder from Ethan, who was somewhat familiar with the legend that had been passed down through the werewolf line. Freya had filled in the blanks for him, and the tale she had told had not had a happy ending.

"Well," Vanessa had declared once Freya had finished, "it is clear what the first obstacle we must surmount is."

They had discussed a way in which to banish the Hollow once and for all long into the evening, until Reggie had been reduced to a snoring mess on a turn of the century chaise lounge and Ethan had felt his own eyes drooping. A combination of liquor, a full belly, and near a week of travel was a lethal combination indeed. As soon as Freya had noticed her guests flagging she had apologised for being a poor host and insisted they retire for the night. Vanessa had seemed poised to argue but had apparently realised her own limitations before agreeing, and then vowing to take up their quest once again in the morning. Ethan did not doubt her sincerity for even a moment.

"So what do you think… about the girl?" Ethan asked, rolling onto his back and sinking down onto the mattress, which he had to admit was perhaps the most comfortable experience of his life.

"Hope?" queried Vanessa as she leaned up on her elbow above her lover in order to peer into his face. She preferred being able to see his expressions when he spoke, so that she felt more able to read him.

"Hope," repeated Ethan, something about the name striking him as ironic, "what do you make of her being the hybrid's kid?"

Vanessa appeared to mull over the implication of his question, perhaps slightly surprised that he would have asked such a thing. "We cannot hold the child accountable for the wrong doings of the parent. And… perhaps fatherhood has tamed his… impulsive urges."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, sighing in contentment as Vanessa lay her head on his shoulder and pressed herself into his side, her palm splayed over his chest. He placed his hand over the top of hers and brushed his thumb over her warm skin.

"No, I… I guess I was thinking about it more from her perspective. What it's like growing up knowing that you're father's a…" he floundered, apparently unwilling and unable to use the word that was on the tip of his tongue; there was a familiarity he found in Klaus' story that struck far too close to home, reawakening his own sense of self-loathing.

"Hell… a father who's a monster," he said quietly and quickly, his eyes affixed on the ceiling in order to purposefully avoid Vanessa's probing gaze.

Vanessa turned her head, propping her chin on his chest as she looked up at him mournfully. She knew immediately to whom he was referring - she had seen and heard the revulsion he felt towards himself that night at Grandage Place; the night he had chosen to leave, mistakenly thinking he was saving her from his curse.

"Hope loves her father," she said simply, shuffling to lay on her side against him. Extending her hand, she caressed his jaw, her eyes roving every inch of his face as her fingertips followed their path across his skin. "But I suspect we are no longer talking about Klaus Mikaelson."

Ethan remained silent but he found his eyes drawn to hers, and he allowed his fingers to trace the elegant line of her neck, where he felt the thrum of her pulse beneath his touch.

"Melancholy does not become you, my love," Vanessa whispered. "That was always my natural inclination, and I do not recommend it."

He smiled at her good-natured teasing, finally huffing out a deep sigh as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I guess a wolf just thinks about these things…" he joked, although his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We are all the monster in someone's story, Ethan," she said, voice a mere murmur against the vibrant backdrop of the New Orleans evening.

The surprise that coloured Ethan's expression was unbidden but still he recognised the truth in Vanessa's words. To some he was indeed a beast, just the same as the ancient hybrid that he now contemplated. And yet to others like Vanessa, he was a kind of saviour, and he supposed that in Hope's eyes the very same could be said of Klaus.

"Do you really think you can help them with the Hollow?" asked Ethan, hurriedly finishing, "not that I'm doubting your abilities for a moment, darlin'."

A light laugh escaped Vanessa's lips and she affixed Ethan with an amused look that made him feel like he had barely just evaded a scolding.

"I believe that particular issue will be the easiest to deal with," she answered diplomatically, something in her tone suggesting to Ethan that, whilst she may be confident in her ability to banish the Hollow, she was not as equally certain about solving other problems they faced. More specifically, the resurrection of a certain hybrid queen.

"If Hayley Marshall has found peace…" began Vanessa, biting her bottom lip as she so often did when she was anxious over something, "then there is no power short of the Lord himself that could return her soul to this earth."

"But the visions," protested Ethan, scrunching his features up in concern as he considered Vanessa's revelation, "does she seem like she's at rest?"

"No," Vanessa admitted, leaning up on her elbow as the details of her reoccurring dream – or indeed, visions – were recalled. "I feel great pain… and loss. Now of course I understand why. She is mourning being parted from her child. It is perhaps the longing for her daughter that prevents her from being at rest… and that may allow us to retrieve her from the demimonde."

Ethan lay still as Vanessa sat up and began tugging at the bow tied around the high collar of her blouse. It was a Victorian styled piece that one of Reggie's sisters had found in a Good Will store and had thought would perhaps be appealing to Vanessa. Beginning to work on the small, black pearl buttons, she halted as she felt Ethan watching her movements intently.

Sitting up, Ethan reached out and began to twist his fingers through the loose curls in Vanessa's hair.

"You thought about what we're going to do? After we've broken a few ancient curses and raised the dead, of course."

Vanessa shook her head, sensing that he had perhaps thought about their future; and if the expression in his eyes was any indication, he'd apparently thought about it at length.

Encouraged by the hesitant smile he thought he imagined tugging at her lips, he ventured, "I thought maybe we'd find a little house somewhere off the beaten track, you know? With a garden, maybe some animals… Hell, maybe, you could finish teaching me how to dance…"

Vanessa giggled, the hesitancy and nervousness in Ethan's voice causing a flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Licking his lips, he rambled on, tugging on a single ringlet that remained in her freshly brushed out hair.

"Then I figured maybe we'd get married… if you want to, that is. And… well, I kind of had my heart set on some kids… if you want to, that is…" he repeated nervously.

Vanessa's smile was the most radiant he'd ever seen grace her pretty face, and she simply stared at him for a few moments, her heart practically aching for the life he had described; the one the demon had once offered her in exchange for her soul. It was everything she had always secretly desired, and to perhaps have it within her reach was unimaginable.

Brushing at the tears that had begun to trip her cheeks, she bobbed her head, conveying her joy in a curious combination of muffled sobs and a beaming smile that momentarily perplexed Ethan.

"Vanessa…"

"I do. I do want those things…" she confessed, moving into his arms. He pulled her onto his lap and she sat astride his knee, momentarily distracted by the restrictive sensation of the denim jeans she wore. Sliding his hands up to her waist, Ethan began to trail a line of kisses up her neck. His fingers made short work of the remaining buttons on her blouse whilst she hurriedly tried to tug his shirt over his head.

With the notable absence of Reggie, and a large, comfortable bed all of their own, it seemed an opportune moment to utilise their solitude; especially after having only been able to explore the new, intimate aspect of their relationship twice since awakening.

Pausing to catch her breath, Vanessa whispered into his ear, "Although perhaps we can negotiate on the dancing."

She shivered at the puff of laughter he released against her collarbone then dragged him back up to initiate another searing kiss.

Ethan grazed his teeth over her shoulder in retaliation, rejoicing in the sound of her laughter as he rolled her over and she surrendered to his kisses. The sense of freedom she felt in this new life of theirs was overwhelming and, for the first time in decades, Vanessa Ives was determined to pursue happiness.

x-x-x

It was beyond late but Freya had made a vow, and she certainly was not prepared to start breaking those now.

She flipped up the lid of her laptop and opened the Skype application, the fingers of her free hand toying almost nervously with a ribbon that hung from her nightgown. In just a few hours, Hope would turn sixteen, and her mother would not be there to see it – would not be there to kiss her head or cook up a special breakfast of M & M pancakes or take far too many pictures whilst Hope tore the wrapping off her presents.

Freya knew that there was a pile of gifts hidden in the darkest corner of Hayley's closet, already wrapped and primed with oversized bows. Hope's card was in the top left hand drawer of her dresser, and the cake Hayley had ordered from the award winning bakery in the quarter would be arriving around breakfast time. Freya just wasn't certain how to handle it all.

Hope's moods were tumultuous lately, and understandably so. But that meant it was impossible to predict whether it would do more harm than good to recognise the day that marked the 16th year since her birth, or whether Freya should just let it pass without a whisper of it being spoken aloud. She dearly wished teenagers came with a manual. No. She dearly wished Hayley was there. Even though she would no doubt have kept Freya up far too late in order to enlist her help in decorating the compound ready for the birthday girl. The thought evoked a slight smile and Freya sought to banish it before she finally clicked on Klaus' name on her computer screen.

He answered far more quickly than usual, which Freya supposed was a testament to just how badly he was seeking good news. She did her level best to ignore the dark circles ringing her brother's eyes, and also the more than slightly dishevelled appearance of his hair. At least a few days' worth of stubble peppered his jaw, which was uncharacteristic to say the least for Klaus, who usually prided himself on his appearance.

"How is Hope?" demanded Klaus in place of a congenial greeting. Swallowing down any prickle of annoyance she felt, Freya found herself merely nodding her head.

"She's… as well as can be expected," she finished lamely, barely managing not to wince as she completed her sentence. Klaus' sour look suggested that he hadn't bought her lies anyway.

"Considering her mother is dead, her father is absent - with part of the spirit of an ancient evil locked inside his body - and in a few short hours it's the sixteenth anniversary of approximately the one hundredth time that the witches of that godforsaken city have tried to murder her… then I'll wager that's probably not very well after all, sister."

Clearing her throat, and trying to dispel the sense of urgency that Freya found overcoming her, she announced, "She's here, Klaus. The witch I told you about? She's here. She just… came looking for me."

Klaus was silent for a moment but surprise was evident in his eyes. His sister could tell that he was trying to dampen down any expectations or hopes that the witch's arrival may prompt before he dared to speak.

"She will help us?"

But all too soon his suspicious nature got the better of him, and he began to ponder just why a stranger would volunteer to come to the aid of the feared and loathed family of which he was patriarch.

"Tell me, sister, why would this woman want to help us? What possible motivation could she have for assisting in resurrecting a dead hybrid?"

Growing tired of his constant cynicism when there was some small spark of hope on the horizon, Freya rolled her eyes.

"She's not a stranger, she's my friend. I helped her once… a long time ago… to be with the man she loves. A wolf, actually."

Klaus sat back in his seat, eyes sparkling with curiosity, "A crescent wolf?"

"Does that matter?" demanded Freya, cocking her head as she peered levelly into the camera of her laptop. Klaus stilled under the weight of her gaze, shifting just so into the light cast from a nearby desk lamp, which cast a beam across his features. The dark circles beneath his eyes hinted at both a lack of sleep and sustenance, which Freya knew not to be in her brother's character at all. In fact, if the history books and journals of long dead hunters were to be believed, when faced with a crisis Klaus generally loved nothing more than to gorge himself on the blood of the innocent. But it appeared that perhaps he had changed after all; following centuries of violence and murder, his ways were slowly but surely altering. Freya knew that in part such a character development was down to Klaus' desire to be nothing like the father who had abused him, but she had suspicions that Klaus was also effected by his seldom spoken feelings towards the mother of his child.

"Perhaps not," mumbled Klaus, rubbing a palm across his eyes as though trying to physically push away his fatigue.

"You need to rest, Klaus," Freya gently chided, leaning into the screen. She would have dearly loved to pull her brother close, to hold him and assure him that she would and she could fix everything – but there were no such assurances in life, even with the addition of magic.

"I will rest when it is done. When she is home, with her family, where she belongs," Klaus replied.

Freya watched him lick his lips and then sit back from the screen, momentarily lost in a dream. Freya thought that was perhaps for the best, as she had no response to offer him that could guarantee Hayley would indeed be returned to them.

"She will help us?" Klaus asked again, almost hesitantly, and for the first time since the siblings had been reunited, Freya detected a trace of uncertainty that made his voice grow hoarse.

Offering her brother the most encouraging smile she could, Freya continued, "We're already working on dealing with the Hollow situation. Rebekah's on a flight back to the US as we speak, and Kol's headed back to the city... we..."

Klaus pursed his lips, irritation flashing in his eyes as he asked sharply, "And Elijah? Where is my ever valiant big brother? Contemplating his role in the death of the woman he professed to love, or perhaps congratulating himself on making his niece a virtual orphan?"

"Klaus..." Freya began diplomatically.

"No matter," Klaus waved his hand, his jaw set with unchecked rage as he allowed his thoughts to linger on the oldest Mikaelson brother for perhaps a few seconds too many. "The wolves... I hear rumours that there is unrest in the bayou?! In Hayley's... absence... they will be looking to Hope as their leader. I will not allow my daughter to be a pawn in their power struggle, but nor can we let them appoint their own alpha. Perhaps someone who is less motivated to adhere to the conditions of the truce we all so uneasily follow."

Klaus arched an eyebrow, as he pondered over the issue at hand. "Maybe our new wolf friend might be so inclined as to lead negotiations on our part?! I'll wager his strength is perhaps twice that of the runts his unfortunate bloodline has become diluted down to."

Freya folded her arms across her chest, regarding her brother with an air of suspicion.

"How did you know..." she began, perplexed by the fact that Klaus seemed to know anything about Ethan's heritage, which made him an almost direct ancestor of the wolves who inhabited the New Orleans bayou. It had been the curse unleashed by the native tribes that had first given birth to the half man, half wolf creatures. As one of the first and only survivors of that, it stood to reason that Ethan Chandler was decidedly stronger than the descendants who had been born under the same affliction.

Klaus smirked, shrugging as he added off-hand, "A little birdy might have told me."

"Ugh, you need to stop your men spying on me, Klaus," Freya sighed, her lip curling at the thought, "I'm trying to help here and I don't do well with half witted… lackeys… breathing over my shoulder."

Nodding his head, although he didn't appear chagrined in the slightest, Klaus cast a glance at the expensive Rolex adorning his wrist.

"I should let you go," he admonished, recognising the hour. Freya attempted to stifle a yawn behind the back of her hand, although the smirk on Klaus' lips and the twinkle in his eye told her that he had noticed.

"Sleep, sister," he encouraged, voice softening as he added, "and thank you for taking care of Hope whilst I am unable to. I know you have sacrificed much already for this family. Perhaps it is time that your efforts were no longer ignored."

"I help because I care, Klaus," assured Freya, "You know how much I love my niece.."

"And what about your old brother?" inquired Klaus, just the wisp of a roguish grin playing across his lips before it faded quickly away and he remembered his bone deep sorrow.

The mood grew flat and sombre again, such as Freya had become accustomed to in recent times.

"I hate to bring it up now but I don't really have a choice," Freya began diplomatically, pausing to gnaw on her lip as her anxiety got the better of her and claimed her voice.

"Hope's birthday is tomorrow," Klaus managed to choke out, clearly already aware of exactly where Freya's questioning was leading.

"What do I do?" demanded Freya, desperation suddenly alive in her features and voice. She wrung her hands out in front of her chest, continuing in a rush, "Hope is like a magical ticking time bomb right now, not to mention a typical hormonal teenager, and I have a stack of gifts hidden away that I have no idea if I should give to her or not… plus there's the decorations and cake that Hayley ordered… but God… it's not even been a week since she lost her mom and I…"

Klaus pressed his palms together as if in prayer and then rested his chin on the top of his fingertips. "You know her almost as well as her mother, and I am certain far better than I... You will do what is best for her."

Freya sighed resolutely, debating how to tackle the coming morning and the potential tears and fresh pangs of grief the occasion would likely prompt. "And I should tell her to expect a call from her father?"

"Of course," Klaus agreed, "Hayley and I picked her gift out together some weeks ago. I confess I am not familiar with the wants and needs of teenage girls."

"I'll make sure she gets it. And that she knows it was from both of you," Freya smiled sadly, realising how important it would be to her young niece to know that her parents had taken the time to purchase a gift together; that in some respects, they had been a normal, loving family. Pressing her fingertips to her lips and then against the screen, Freya smiled weakly, "I'll call when I have more news. Goodnight, Niklaus."

Klaus appeared to be struggling to swallow, his eyes tearing as he simply bobbed his head at his sister and slammed the lid of his laptop closed to disconnect the call. Freya could well understand his reaction; love was a foreign concept indeed to Klaus Mikaelson. It was the one thing he had been starved of his whole life, until such a point that he had been irreparably soured by its continual absence. Finding Hayley, gaining Hope, had been perhaps the first wholly positive experiences he had endured.

Wiping at her own suddenly moist eyes, Freya shut down her laptop and set about turning back the covers on her bed. It was a characteristically balmy night in New Orleans and she probably had no need for the heavy embroidered eiderdown but in the absence of another body to share her bed with, she thought that maybe she could use the weight.


	5. Five Days After Black & Red Collide

_**Five Days After Black and Red Collide** _

_**5** _

_**Mikaelson Compound, New Orleans** _

_**2nd May** _

Breakfast was an uncharacteristically quiet affair for the date. Freya poured coffee for herself and her guests, worried that her boiled eggs were going to turn out as hard as rubber, and tried to dislodge the sleep from her eyes with balled fists. Every moment physically hurt, with Hayley never far from her mind, and Hope's absence at the breakfast table also notable.

The birthday girl should have been bouncing around the dining room of the compound, hyped up on sugar and post gift excitement, when instead she was squirrelled away in her room refusing to let anyone inside. Freya had tried religiously since waking, and even Vanessa had taken a turn sitting outside the door and attempting to coax the silent teenager over the threshold. Nothing seemed to work, and short of having one of Klaus' men break down her only barrier to her niece in order to drag her out by her hair, Freya wasn't entirely sure what could be done.

And so, she admitted defeat, staring into another mug of coffee, which was probably too bitter to drink since she had never truly gotten the hang of using the all-singing, all-dancing coffee machine that Hayley had practically lived for.

At Freya's side, Reggie sat pouring over the morning paper whilst munching on a square of toast that Freya was ashamed to admit she had burned. For an all-powerful witch who could whip up some of the most complex spells and potions the world had ever seen, she was a shockingly terrible cook.

"I'm sorry breakfast is…" Freya began, shooting glances at Vanessa and Ethan, who were both rather gallantly attempting to chew their way through overcooked eggs and blackened toast. Freya neglected to finish her sentence and instead chose to punctuate it with a hefty sigh. Vanessa's kindly smile wasn't nearly enough to renew her spirit, but when her friend reached across the table, seized her hand, and gently squeezed it, Freya found her mood lifting just slightly.

"No need to apologise," Vanessa declared, deciding to drop all pretences as she pushed her plate away with her free hand, "breakfast was never my favourite meal of the day. Now dessert on the other hand…"

Freya chuckled and shook her head as she replied, "Thank God for canned pudding is all I can say. Klaus is better in the kitchen than me, strangely enough."

Swallowing a sip of coffee, Ethan shrugged then picked up a slice of slightly charred toast which he bit into with little concern. Vanessa peered over the rim of her china tea cup, smiling when Ethan sat back and rested his arm around her chair.

"I figure I've always been more of an accomplished eater rather than a chef," he remarked, "and I confess that I'm mighty keen to see what other culinary delights this century has to offer."

He smiled almost dreamily at the recollection of the new, gloriously cheesy concoction they had eaten for supper the previous evening. He had already made a mental note to revisit 'pizza' again in the near future.

Freya was poised to reply when one of Klaus' day walkers appeared in the doorway of the dining room, a bright pink box clutched in his hands and an almost pensive expression on his face.

"This was just delivered. Figured I should bring it straight to you."

Biting on her bottom lip, the blonde witch gestured to the table and offered a tight smile of thanks as the vampire placed the offering down beside her then bid a hasty retreat. Whilst the day walkers Klaus had charged with guarding the family compound lived in a perpetual state of fear regarding upsetting their hybrid employer, neither were they keen on the prospect of getting on the wrong side of his spell casting sister.

Vanessa peered at the box, which she considered somewhat enormous, a look of open curiosity spread across her features. A glance at Freya and the sadness washing over her alerted Vanessa to the fact that the mystery delivery was perhaps an unwelcome one. Sensing her friends' eyes upon her, Freya gathered herself quickly and drew in a breath that she hoped would sustain her throughout her explanation.

"It's Hope's birthday today," she explained, barely managing to blink back her tears as she added in a rush, "Hayley ordered the cake weeks ago. We were supposed to have a big party tonight here at the compound. All of our friends, some of the kids Hope goes to school with, the wolves…"

Understanding dawned and Ethan nodded at Freya with a sympathetic smile, which was mirrored on Vanessa's face. Freya felt herself internally cringing, however, when she registered the sound of footsteps entering the dining room. She shot a look at the treacherous box, which was emblazoned with the name of the bakery in gold letters. There was nowhere to conceivably hide the cake before Hope swept into the room, although Freya momentarily gave serious thought to attempting to toss a napkin over it and hoping for the best.

"Talking about me?" Hope demanded, a definite edge to her voice as she lingered for a few seconds at the head of the table before deciding on a chair at Freya's side.

"Good mornin'," Ethan rumbled, bobbing his head politely at Hope, who only barely glanced at him for a fleeting moment.

"Not really," deflected Hope, her meaning clear. She reached for an empty glass with one hand and the jug of fresh orange juice with the other, her lips pursed as she poured. She kept her eyes to the table top as best she could, the slight tremble of her shoulders betraying the fact that she was barely managing to keep it together in front of their guests.

Her eyes freezing on the cake box, Hope blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to dismiss the tears that she had awoken to that morning. It was as if opening her eyes on the new day had ushered in a fresh wave of grief and guilt, and she felt the back of her throat burn with the effort of keeping it together.

"Throw it in the trash," Hope demanded, reaching out and shoving roughly at the box, as if all of her anger was directed at the four layer raspberry and white chocolate cake that lay inside the carefully wrapped parcel.

"Hope..." Freya began, her eyes widening as the teenager rounded on her, slamming her glass down onto the table despite the polite company she found herself in.

Shaking her head wildly, Hope interrupted her, "I don't want to talk about it, Aunt Freya, okay? Just... Just throw the damn cake away. It's not like we're gonna light candles and sing 'Happy Birthday', right? I just... I just want to forget it's my birthday. Can we just do that, please?"

Freya, uncertain of how best to respond given the circumstances, found herself powerless to do anything else other than nod her head in agreement. Sliding his paper across the table, Reggie rose to his feet and wordlessly beat a hasty exit, perhaps sensing the rising probability of an argument. Ethan watched the man go with an almost envious look upon his face, perhaps wishing that he too could retreat from the line of fire.

"I'll get rid of it after breakfast," Freya assuaged her niece, swallowing hard as she watched Hope attempt to shut down her emotions again. It was as though a curtain descended in front of the girl's face, masking her grief and anger.

"Hope, if I may be so bold," Vanessa started, her voice ringing out clearly across the room and causing Hope to snap her head up in surprise, "Ethan and I have made a vow to your aunt, and indeed to you, that we will not rest until we have been able to ease your pain, even if but a little. I can't promise that I can return your mother to you, but I do believe that I can at least vanquish the evil that is keeping your father away."

Surprising all of those seated around the table, Hope appeared to mull over Vanessa's words for a moment before replying with a tentative, " _Okay_."

Vanessa, sensing that she might perhaps be making some headway in reaching the girl, ventured further, "Perhaps you and I might finish our breakfast outside? I believe I spotted a bench out in the courtyard. Personally, I feel it an absolute crime to let perfectly good dessert go to waste."

Managing to coax a brief, uncertain smile out of the youngster, she narrowed her eyes as if conspiring over some great secret, "And you know in my experience nothing starts the day off quite like a slice of cake."

Ethan chuckled discretely, hiding the gesture behind the rim of his coffee mug as he watched Vanessa pluck two unused forks from their place settings at the table. She held them up as if posing the question to Hope and, with a shrug of feigned disinterest, the girl nodded.

"My favourite is Funfetti," Hope said almost meekly, pushing back her chair and tilting her head in Vanessa's direction. A tiny smile, fuelled by a memory, weaved its way across her lips as she explained, "Mom used to wake me up with cake, every birthday."

"And perhaps she will again," answered Vanessa softly. She didn't miss the way Hope stood up a little straighter at the suggestion, renewed by even the possibility of being in her mother's arms again. Vanessa dearly hoped that she could give her that.

Hope had just begun to collect the box from the table when her attention was drawn to the doorway, from which a great commotion could be heard emanating from the courtyard. There was a very loud and distinct scream of pain, and Ethan was on his feet in front of Vanessa before anyone could so much as blink. Freya rose and pushed Hope behind her, but the teen peered around her aunt's shoulder as she attempted to make out what was happening barely out of sight.

"You can't… you can't just…" a familiar voice – one of Klaus' soldiers – yelled gruffly, before he was silenced by a sickening sounding crack that may or may not have been his neck breaking.

The door to the dining room was flung open seconds later. It struck the adjacent wall hard, sending chunks of ancient plaster raining down from the ceiling, much to Freya's irritation. The compound was already in dire need of work, and it was just one more thing to add to her ever growing list of chores she could never possibly hope to get done.

"This is on you…" Lisina hissed from her position on the threshold of the doorway. Freya's eyes widened, taking in the wolf's dishevelled appearance and the blood dripping from her mouth, indicating that someone in the near vicinity had been on the wrong end of her teeth. Imagining Klaus' fury at such a development, Freya's blood pressure soared along with her own anger.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Lisina?" snarled Freya, her hair rising around her shoulders as though encouraged by the breeze. "I thought I made it clear that…"

"Frank is dead, and it's all because of this god damned family and their refusal to act," roared the irate wolf.

"Who the fuck is Frank?" Ethan interjected, tiring quickly of the back and forth that neither he nor Vanessa could possibly hope to comprehend.

"A Crescent," Hope spoke up, although her voice was small and shaky. It seemed to do nothing to deflate Lisina's rage, however.

"One of my pack," agreed Lisina, whipping her head around to face Ethan, who she evaluated with a mere glance, "a friend. At least, he was until he was murdered last night in his sleep by a guy he used to go bowling with."

Noting how Hope watched the back and forth with growing unease, Vanessa placed her hand on her arm, frowning as the young girl jumped at the sudden contact - an indication of just how much the appearance of the wolf had unnerved her.

"Come along, Hope," Vanessa said kindly, offering her a smile as she watched the girl's gaze dart furtively between her aunt and the woman she so clearly viewed as a threat.

"But... I should stay, I..." Hope began, feeling Vanessa's arm curl that little bit tighter around her shoulders as she cajoled her towards the door.

Vanessa shot Ethan a parting glance, and he nodded wordlessly at her inference as he moved to stand beside Freya, his body half blocking the blonde witch from the fury of the newcomer. Knowing the history of the Crescent wolves as she did - thanks to Freya's very detailed explanations of the city's residents the previous evening - Vanessa knew that Ethan's strength far outmatched that of his somewhat rowdy descendants.

"It will be alright, Ethan will not allow anything to happen to your aunt," Vanessa assured her, this time managing to successfully steer the child out of the room and away from the fray.

Lisina stepped forward, arms folded across her chest and a fire blazing behind her eyes as she glared with unchecked irritation at the man who had seen fit to interfere in the business of the bayou.

"Step aside, stranger, this doesn't concern you!" she snapped, glaring up into the handsome face of the man before her, who had the nerve to deflect her order with nothing more than an easy smile and a shrug.

Ethan turned to regard Freya momentarily, awaiting dismissal, before his gaze landed once more on the increasingly frustrated wolf.

"Well now, I'm afraid I can't do that," he countered, anticipating the response he knew would follow, if the indignation in the woman's eyes was any indication.

Lisina leant her head back, jaw tilted, "I said, this doesn't concern you."

Narrowing his eyes, a brief, self-assured smirk tugged at his lips as Ethan drawled, "You sure about that, darlin'?"

Almost immediately a flash of amber flickered in his brown orbs. The guttural growl that reverberated from his chest seemed to only brighten the deep yellow hue that coloured his gaze.

Having the good sense to recognise a stronger wolf, Lisina took a step back, at least some of the wind leaving her sales. However, her expression remained irate, features stretched taught in a display of her rage. Her entire body trembled and, had her supernatural link to Hayley not been severed with the hybrid's death, Freya was certain that Lisina would have erupted into fur and claws right there and then.

"You're not a Crescent," said Lisina stubbornly, arms tight across her chest in a gesture that was perhaps one of nervousness. Ethan watched her, waiting for her to make the slightest move against the witch he had sworn to protect.

"I understand that things in the bayou are bad," Freya interjected, her teeth gritted and her nails digging into her palms as she spoke, "I wish that I could help more, I really do."

Lisina snorted, and her response tumbled from her lips along with a puff of laughter, "You expect me to believe that you care a damn about the affairs of wolves?"

"I care," Freya bit back, her upper lip curling, "Hayley was my best friend, my sister, and you were her people, just like you're my brother's people and my niece's people."

"Your niece needs to step up to her obligations," hissed Lisina, shaking her head hard as though she couldn't quite believe Freya's protests or her gall.

Freya arched an eyebrow, her hand planted on her hip as she regarded the insolent wolf with a growing ire of her own. With all Hope had been through lately, there was no way she would allow the young girl to be subjected to the power plays and often underhanded politics of the bayou.

"My niece is still a child. A child who just lost her mother," Freya took a step forward, the menacing glint in her eye reminiscent of her younger brother's fits of often incandescent, homicidal rage. "Get out of my house before my brother finds out you were here placing demands on his daughter, and rips your goddamn throat out!"

Lisina looked between the witch and her protector, her breathing coming in short, sharp rasps as she felt her whole body consumed with frustration and anger. Hayley's death had heralded the worst societal unrest between the species within living memory, and the uncertainty of just who would rule over the wolf clans was causing almost as much alarm to the bayou residents as the actions of the scheming factions within it.

"I'm not leaving until..." Lisina started, her eyes growing wide as Freya lifted her hand and batted her wrist at the woman. Almost immediately, Lisina was swept clear off her feet then sent hurtling through the doorway and out into the courtyard with a scream of surprise that caused numerous day walkers to come running. The dining room doors slammed closed, forced by an invisible hand.

A smirk still in place upon his lips, Ethan drawled, "Well, she seemed nice."

x-x-x

Vanessa settled herself onto a bench outside, cake box still clutched precariously in both hands, whilst Hope was stared back towards the entrance of the compound. She wore her worry plainly on her face, and she held herself in such a way that her anxiety was clear; all hunched shoulders and taut muscles.

"Everything will be well, little one," Vanessa assured her, without glancing up from the cake box. She managed to manoeuvre it just so, ensuring its safety in her lap, and then she extended one hand to Hope. Within her fingers was clasped a fork.

"You really weren't kidding," observed Hope, a faint smile of amusement twitching at her lips as she sat down at Vanessa's side on the bench and then curled her legs up underneath her body. Her poise was still very much immature, and Vanessa was struck suddenly by just how young the girl beside her indeed was – almost fresh from the cradle.

"I never joke about cake, Hope," replied Vanessa with a twinkle in her eye, and Hope actually laughed in response. However, she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and her mirth faded away along with the colour in her cheeks.

"Every time I… if I smile or I laugh or…" Hope swallowed hard, and Vanessa pressed her shoulder against the girl's in a small offer of comfort, "it feels like I'm betraying her."

Vanessa sighed out loud, her brow creased into a frown as she stated, "I am certain that your mother's main desire in life was for your happiness, was it not?"

Not awaiting a reply, she added, "I believe that is all parents truly want for their children; their happiness. A child's sorrow is her mother's greatest torment. Perhaps even her father's, too."

Looking up and staring intently at the woman's face, Hope saw the loss and regret etched in her features. "Did you have kids? I mean, back then."

Shaking her head resolutely, Vanessa managed a smile that was somewhat tight and forced.

"No. I believe I was the _cause_ of great sadness for my mother. My father, too." Whilst Vanessa's thoughts drifted to the man whose name she bore, she also found herself contemplating the late Sir. Malcolm, and a lump formed in her throat at the raw grief such thoughts elicited.

Hope nodded, poking her fork at the edge of the frosting on the cake. "I don't see my dad much now... cos of the whole Hollow thing. Kind of feels like... like being an orphan, I guess."

Reaching out hesitantly, Vanessa brushed a stray tendril of hair from the girl's cheek, and the maternal gesture brought a quiver to the child's bottom lip that did not go unnoticed by the witch.

"We shall set about fixing that, and then your father can return home to you where he belongs," Vanessa stated, and the certainty in her tone brought a smile of acknowledgement to Hope's face, brightening her features if only for a second.

"Now, as it is your birthday, I think perhaps you should do the honours!" Vanessa peered down at the cake, watching with a growing smile as Hope ducked her head and somewhat hesitantly broke through the icing with her fork. Lifting a mound of cake to her lips, the girl chewed on it slowly and then pressed her hand to her mouth as a puff of laughter overcame her.

"It's really good," she said shyly, her smile growing - this time unchecked - as Vanessa dug a forkful of the cake out for herself.

"As I said," Vanessa replied, an almost snooty air about her, "it is always a shame to allow a good cake to go to waste."

Hope simply grunted, her mouth far too full to possibly consider speaking, which would have been much to her mother's chagrin she was sure. This time though, thoughts of her mother did not bring a sense of heaviness to her body, or cause her heart to stutter to almost stillness in her chest. They instead filled her with warmth. She loved her mother with everything she had, and had been loved by Hayley in equal measure; Hope was not prepared to let go quite so easily. She would fight with everything she had to bring her mother back, and she could be almost certain that the powerful witch by her side would do likewise.

Vanessa swallowed her bite of cake and tapped demurely at the corner of her lips with her fingertips to dispel invisible crumbs.

"Many happy returns of the day, Hope," she said, reaching out and capturing Hope's free hand in her own. She squeezed the girl's fingers tight, offering her comfort and also strength, for she would undoubtedly need both to make it through the trials of the day ahead.

"You talk kind of like my dad," answered Hope, looking somewhat apprehensive, as though she was afraid of offending Vanessa. The witch's responding chuckle was enough to assuage her of that, however.

"Your father and I are from a different time, although he admittedly a much earlier one than I," Vanessa said, returning her attention to the cake, which had improved vastly in the years she had been sleeping. The icing melted on the roof of her mouth and the sponge was the lightest she had ever tasted, although the cook at Grandage Place had certainly been an exquisite one.

Hope fell silent, toying with her fork and staring off into the distance at the fountain that bubbled away quietly.

"Tell me about your mother," Vanessa pressed, watching Hope for her reaction, "I think that I would like to know her."

Hope appeared slightly taken aback for a moment. Licking the frosting from the fork, she looked up at her new friend from beneath of fan of dark lashes, and then hesitantly she began to talk about her late mother.

The words came easier than she had expected, and the more Hope talked the more animated and bright her eyes became. For the next ten minutes, Hope painted a picture of the young, free-spirited, and loving mother she had adored for all of her short life; the songs they'd sung, the lullabies in the dead of night, the favourite meals she had cooked, the movies they enjoyed together, road trips, silly stories, the places they had planned to visit, and the hopes and dreams they had shared for the future. Soon Vanessa felt as if she too knew the vivacious young woman whose absence held so many grief stricken.

"She sounds like a wonderful mother." Her blue eyes creased into a kind smile, Vanessa watched the girl brush mournfully at the tears that tripped her cheeks. Her joyful tirade had come to a halt, and cruel reality once more began to take hold of her.

"We will do everything within our power to bring her back, Hope."

Letting the fork fall into the box, her appetite gone, Hope peered up into the woman's face, finding a curious sense of comfort in her eyes. Shuffling closer, she let her head rest, at first hesitantly, on Vanessa's shoulder. Leaning her forehead gently against the child's, the witch allowed Hope to give in to her grief. She wrapped her in an almost maternal embrace and uttered soft, shushing sounds as she rocked the girl gently through her tears.

When her eyes were dry and sore, and she could cry no more, Hope cast her mournful gaze at the cake box beside her. She dabbed at her wet cheeks with the cuffs of her sweater.

"I think you'll be a pretty great mom too," Hope said almost absently. She realised that she didn't feel at all foolish or embarrassed for her emotional outburst. Despite the wealth of power she felt radiating from the brunette witch, there was also an inherent kindness about her that made the teenager feel at ease; safe, even.

"Maybe you can eat breakfast cake with your kid," Hope shrugged, "she'll like that."

Vanessa looked at the young tribid sharply, noting the confidence that resonated in her tone, as if her words were true and not only conjecture - as if she had a clear window to the future. Choosing not to question the teenager, and perhaps allowing herself to reignite an old dream, Vanessa merely smiled.

" _Wouldn't that be wonderful._ "

x-x-x

Freya had managed to steal herself away whilst the vampires at her beck and call were far too preoccupied with scrubbing blood off the tiles to much notice her absence. Ethan was polite enough not to inquire as to where she was heading, and instead retreated back to his own room in order to do some reading since Vanessa was still occupied with Hope and a very large birthday cake.

Closing the door of the pantry behind her, Freya leaned her back against it heavily and allowed her eyelids to flicker closed for a moment so that she could gather her wits. Lisina's abrupt interruption of breakfast coupled with her revelations of murder in the bayou had set Freya's very last nerve on edge. She sucked in a few harsh and noisy breaths before she managed to slow the pounding of her heart. She forced her pulse to a more leisurely rhythm, repeating a soothing mantra in her own head in order to hurry along the business of calming herself. When she was certain finally that her voice would not shake when she spoke, Freya dug her cell phone out of her pocket and clicked on the Skype app.

The call rang barely three times before it was answered, and Klaus' concerned face filled her screen.

"Sister, how is Hope?" he began, clearly digesting the somewhat frenzied look in Freya's eyes, which were usually such an ocean of calm.

Forgoing all pleasantries, Freya blurted out, "There's been a murder in the bayou!"

Klaus appeared visibly taken aback, his brow creasing deeply into a frown. Whilst he couldn't have cared less about wolf clan politics, or indeed the unfortunately deceased Crescent, he immediately recognised the implications of such an event.

"And might I ask which unfortunate flea bag has met his or her demise?" he asked carefully, the disdain and irritation evident in his voice as he contemplated once again how problematic the Crescent wolves could be. It had been so much easier with Hayley as their leader; she'd commanded their respect and yet also somehow their affection, and Klaus doubted they would find another who could so effortlessly compel the wolves into easy submission.

"I don't know, it doesn't matter," Freya shook her head, unable to recall the name of the victim as her mind raced still as a result of her encounter with Lisina. "What are we going to do, Klaus? Lisina was here at the compound. They're demanding Hope..."

Klaus interrupted her, his voice more an audible snarl, "They're making demands of my daughter? Have they entirely lost their mange ridden minds?"

"Of course I sent her away," Freya replied, dropping her voice to a whisper in order to avoid being overheard, "but Lisina isn't kidding around, Klaus. I'm concerned about what the wolves are going to do if we don't act now."

Klaus considered Freya's words for a while in silence, his gaze cast downward and his lips twisted into a grimace that indicated he was at a loss, at least for the moment.

"There is nothing much I can do given my current predicament," he stated, raking a hand through his hair and then rubbing at his eyes, which seemed even more swollen and red than they had done the previous evening.

"I guess Ethan is our only option," Freya murmured, sagging against the shelves and accidentally disturbing packets of cereal and pasta. "What do you want me to do, Klaus?"

"Talk to him, beg if you have to," Klaus replied without missing a beat, his eyes almost frantic, "I can be of no service to Hope or the peace treaty at the moment, and we have no idea of knowing whether your witch's spell will be effective in changing that. Ask him to keep the pack in order, I don't care how he does it, I don't even care if he forces them to roll out the red carpet and crown him before the day is through, just… fix this… please, Freya."

Unaccustomed to hearing such pleading from Klaus, Freya barely managed to keep the surprise from colouring her features as she peered into the camera lens of her cell phone and emphatically nodded her head.

"I'll do my best," she vowed, and Klaus revealed a small smile that belayed he had absolutely no doubt as to the sincerity of his sister's words.

"How is Hope holding up?" he asked, his entire person seeming to somehow soften with the query.

"I think she'd feel better for speaking to her dad?!"

Klaus nodded, his expression brightening infinitesimally. "If only I were able to spend the day with her, instead of each of us languishing in our shared misery."

Pushing her way out of the pantry, Freya walked onto the balcony in search of the birthday girl. She glanced down into the courtyard, where she found Hope and Vanessa chatting away as if they were old friends, the half savaged cake abandoned between them.

Though Freya had only known her magical counterpart for little more than six months all those years ago, she was aware that it was typical of Vanessa to reach out to those in need. Perhaps it was that Vanessa felt a kindred spirit in the abandoned and unloved, but whatever could be held accountable for her nature, the woman of high birth had always been at home with the destitute and isolated in Victorian society. Now, it seemed she had found a way to relate to the grief that gripped so fiercely at a young girl.

"Hope?" Freya called down, forcing a smile as she held her cell phone aloft, "your dad wants to talk to you."

Almost immediately Hope appeared to brighten. She stood up and tore towards the stairs to speak to her father with childish exuberance. Seizing the phone without a thanks, she held it up to view her father's image and, as the two began to talk in hushed tones, Hope sauntered in the direction of her bedroom.

Freya looked to Vanessa, wringing her hands together as she contemplated her impending conversation with Ethan. He had made no secret of the fact he desired nothing but a quiet life this time around, free from the problems that often arose when one lived amongst the supernatural community. Freya could hardly blame him for harbouring such a desire, especially when it was vampires after all that had almost cost him so much.

Loathed to shatter the peaceful reverie she observed Vanessa in, Freya simply stared at her friend. She didn't hear the sound of footfalls behind her until a voice permeated her scattered thoughts. Gasping at the intrusion, the witch turned to find Ethan standing beside her, his gaze also resting on the dark haired woman in the courtyard beneath them. Ethan's hands gripped the edge of the stone balcony and he breathed out a weary sigh.

"You know, I realised something this morning," he began in obvious contemplation, "in all of the time I've known Vanessa, I don't think I've ever really seen her smile. Not an actual, honest to God smile. Not until now. And that's all thanks to you, and what you did for us back then. I'm no idiot, Freya. I know that given a little more time, the darkness would have worn her down, crushed what was left of her spirit... and I'm partly responsible for that. It pains me to even contemplate what might have happened back then."

His brow knit into a frown, and he averted his eyes so they fell instead upon the stone his hands gripped with increased ferocity. His mind had wandered down a path that he didn't much like to dwell on.

"I love her more than I've ever loved anything in my whole goddamn life… So I figure I owe you."

"Ethan?" Freya began, touched by the sentiment - and indeed the obvious adoration he bestowed on her friend. Yet the timing of his confession was somewhat unexpected, and most certainly a little too convenient to merely be down to coincidence.

Under the weight of his attention, Vanessa turned and sought out the eyes that she felt resting upon her. Her smile was instantaneous and, as she rose from the bench to make her way towards her lover, Ethan felt that swell of gratitude he had spoken of just moments before wash over him again.

The decisive tone to his voice imbued Freya with a sense of relief that she could not quite remember experiencing before.

"When exactly do you want me to meet with the wolves?"


	6. When the Autumn Moon is Bright

__

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_**Mikaelson Compound, New Orleans** _

Given Lisina's unexpected arrival and the state that she had left the courtyard (and several of Klaus' minions) in, it proved difficult for Freya to find a quiet moment to speak with Hope for quite some time. When she was finally able to track down her niece without prying eyes or ears surrounding them, it was just past lunch time. Hope was sprawled face down in the centre of her unmade bed, doing nothing in particular besides existing, or so it seemed. She was still clad in her pyjamas, or the clothes that served as them, her hair spilling around her shoulders in tangled curls.

Freya stole herself for the task to come, her fingers clenching around the wrapped box in her hand, which she knew to be dangerously capable of sending Hope back into another spiral of grief. Still, she had promised Klaus that she would deliver the gift, and she assumed that that was what Hayley would want too. Her brother seemed to know much more on that matter than he cared to explain, surprising Freya each time they spoke the more he revealed regarding just how close he and his fellow hybrid had been. It appeared that they had shared much more than just a one night stand and a daughter. Freya could see the remorse and grief painted plainly on Klaus' face each time that they spoke, and in a strange sense his feelings gave her hope. Klaus had learned to care about someone other than himself finally, and had apparently come to realise that his eternal life was not complete without people he loved to share it with. Freya could have wished for nothing better than that when she had first met her tempestuous, violent and paranoid little brother, who had been so greatly damaged by the decades of abuse he had suffered.

"Knock, knock," Freya choked out, tearing herself from her maudlin thoughts and crossing the threshold into Hope's room from the hallway.

The small box in her hands felt like an unbearable burden, and so Freya placed it down onto the nightstand so that Hope did not feel obligated to take it.

"Your mom and dad had this made for you..." she smiled briefly, watching as Hope's gaze settled on the offering. Almost uncertainly, the teenager lifted the gift up and tugged at the ribbon, glancing at her aunt for approval as her fingers worked.

Lifting the lid with stilted breath, Hope's blue eyes settled onto the ornate silver ring nestled in-between a velvet cushion. The round stone in the centre was a deep green colour, and the setting itself was somehow familiar, though she couldn't place from where.

Noting the frown of recollection, Freya offered gently, "It was your dad's daylight ring. He didn't need it anymore, so your mom thought it would be a nice birthday gift for you. She had it sized down and had them re-set it with your birth stone."

The audible sound of Hope swallowing caused Freya to look away, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as her niece lifted up the gleaming object and slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand.

"Thanks," Hope whispered, staring down at the ring. She found comfort in the fact that her mother had held it in her hands and that it had once sat on her father's finger. It was something from both of them; tangible proof that she had parents who had loved her.

Clearing her throat, Freya began, "I'm taking Ethan and Vanessa to the bayou. There's some business we need to attend to. I want you to stay here where I know you're safe, okay?"

Hope nodded in understanding, grateful not to have to suffer through the meeting with the Crescent wolves.

"Besides, your Aunt Bex is calling in a half hour and you know how upset she'd be to miss a birthday!"

"She's all settled in Gretna?" queried Hope, leaning forwards with a new sense of eagerness overwhelming her. Although Rebekah couldn't set foot in New Orleans given the consequences of the Hollow curse, her presence in the nearby city served as a beacon of hope. It meant that they were one step closer to banishing the evil that had fractured the family, and hopefully to working together to save Hayley.

"She is," replied Freya, squeezing Hope's leg before climbing to her feet, "Marcel is meeting with Vincent today in the quarter to discuss securing the witches' help whilst I deal with the bayou situation. Kol will come when we need him, and your dad is nearby too."

"Go easy on Lisina, Aunt Freya," Hope murmured, raising her gaze for just a moment before she found her guilt forced her to look away, "she's lost a lot lately."

"So have we," Freya countered, her voice quiet and morose as a dozen familiar faces of the dead flashed through her mind.

"She's trying to do the best for her people," continued Hope, a grim smile on her face as she finished, "Mom would have admired that."

"Your mom would never have threatened a child," Freya stated, a slight edge to her tone as she spoke.

Hope nodded her head, unable to do anything but agree with Freya's appraisal. Hayley, like Marcel, had always had a soft spot for children, and would never have dreamed of applying pressure to a grieving young girl the way that Lisina had only that morning. Grief could only be attributed to so much bad behaviour.

"What about E…" Hope trailed off, swallowing hard as she found herself unable to speak the name that had once evoked feelings of love, protection and comfort, but now only caused her immeasurable pain. Instead, she finished, "What about him? Where is he? Is he going to help Dad?"

Freya smiled tightly, making her way to the door and placing her hand against the frame as she turned back to regard her niece with as much confidence as she could muster.

"When we need him, he'll be there."

"You really believe that?" Hope arched an eyebrow, and in that moment she looked so much like her father that Freya blinked. Usually Hope favoured her mother, but the steely determination and rage in her eyes was all Klaus. Freya could only hope that this sudden burst of fire and determination would see her young niece through the coming days.

"I do," Freya countered, leaving little room for argument, despite the uncertainty she felt herself on the matter. "We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Hope watched as her aunt left the room and pulled the door closed behind her. Releasing a poorly contained sigh, she lifted her right hand and stared down at the ring that sat on her middle finger. Jaw clenched in anger, Hope Mikaelson took a moment to ponder the issue of her absent uncle and the part he had ultimately played in her mother's death. If there was anyone she held almost as accountable as herself, it was Elijah.

"Yeah, well, he better stay the Hell away from me."

x-x-x

The walk to the bayou was perhaps the most scenic journey Ethan and Vanessa thought they'd made since they had awoken inside the new century. After suffering long car journeys on highways to being herded around shopping malls and through busy downtown streets, the secluded, leafy stroll to the Crescent settlement was a welcome change.

Freya and Reggie walked on ahead, leaving Ethan and Vanessa to stroll at a more languid pace a few steps behind. Hand in hand, they took in the sights and smells of the forest, at once so familiar and yet so alien to their senses.

"Are you going to tell me what prompted your sudden change of heart about the wolf clans?" Vanessa enquired, looking up to gauge the expression on his face as she added, "perhaps the nightmare you awoke from this morning?"

Ethan cleared his throat, eyes sweeping the treetops and the surface of the nearby lake. A flock of birds took flight from the surface of the water, wheeling over with loud cries as they broke through the cloud cover.

"Maybe that had a little something to do with it," Ethan admitted after the silence between them eventually proved too heavy. He cleared his throat a second time, although Vanessa assumed it was a gesture born out of nervousness.

"A burden shared is a burden halved, my love," Vanessa reminded him, her fingers grasping his suddenly clammy hand just a little tighter.

The silence persisted for a while longer as the couple picked their way through the undergrowth. Up ahead, Freya and Reggie conversed in low tones, too far in the distance for Vanessa to truly overhear their conversation.

Finally Ethan spoke, surprising Vanessa somewhat if the tiny start she gave was anything to go by.

"I had a dream – a nightmare – that I didn't get to you in time, back in London," Ethan revealed, rubbing his free hand across his jaw and peering off across the lake in an attempt to avoid Vanessa's eyes, "you died… I… I killed you… you were begging and pleading with me to do it, and I didn't want to, but it was like there were these voices… and they were telling me there was no other way…. That the awful things you were saying were true and you couldn't be saved."

Nodding her head in understanding, Vanessa realised what had awoken her lover with such a start. It explained the panic in his eyes and the trembling, searching hands that had worked over her body as if to dispel the images his subconscious had conjured.

Once his pounding heart had calmed, she had managed to soothe him wordlessly back to sleep, his head cradled in the crook of her neck whilst she had stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his forehead. Eventually the warmth of her skin against his and the beating of her own heart beneath his ear had proved reassuring enough to lull him back to sleep.

But the vulnerability Ethan had shown her had been surprising - his usually gung-ho, confident swagger reduced to sheer desperation and panic – and so Vanessa knew it must have been a real terror that had gripped his unconscious mind.

Tugging on his hand to bring them to a halt, Vanessa turned until they were facing each other. Then, she reached out and secured his other hand in hers. "We are here together. The darkness did not win."

Ethan took a step forward to close the remaining distance as he pulled one hand free and lifted it to her face to cup her cheek. She peered up at him with bright, untroubled eyes, her smile widening when his thumb brushed across her lips and he bent his head to steal a kiss.

"You really feel safe here?" he checked, mind racing with the supernatural societal troubles he knew to be plaguing New Orleans, not to mention the complex and potentially dangerous spells Vanessa had agreed to perform for the Mikaelson clan.

"I do," she replied, noting the look of dubious surprise that crossed Ethan's features before he managed to iron out his expression. "We are undoubtedly among friends in the compound and, despite the discord with the Crescent wolves and the vampires, I feel as though we are well armed against whatever danger comes our way."

"Truly?" queried Ethan, shooting a glance into the distance, where the figures of Freya and Reggie were beginning to grow smaller as they disappeared between the rows of trees.

"Truly," Vanessa echoed, adding quietly, "I have not sensed a power like Hope Mikaelson's before. Given some time and the correct guidance, I believe she will grow into a force of inherent good. I would dearly like to see that happen. Perhaps to help in my own way."

Ethan nodded, his fingertips still grazing the crest of her cheekbone as his eyes swept her face. He was relieved - and perhaps a little surprised - to note how bright and, dare he say it, happy, she looked. It was a stark contrast to the dark and often pensive expressions that had so frequently twisted her pretty face into a mask of anguish. She looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, and he supposed in a way it had.

"Is this your peace, Van?" he asked, not able to help mirroring the smile she offered in reply. It was the one thing she had always craved; to live within the light, to find peace of mind, to awake each morning free from the dread that had plagued her for many years.

Placing her hand over his, Vanessa turned into his touch. "My peace is with you, where it always was, and was always meant to be."

Ethan felt his heart constrict, and he hurriedly tried to dismiss the lingering anxiety his nightmare had prompted.

"I would never hurt you, you know that?"

His words were more for his own benefit than hers, and she dismissed them with a puff of laughter to signal just how ridiculous she thought he was being.

"Don't be absurd," her brow creased into a frown, and she chastised him with a look and a toss of her head. Her raven curls caught on the breeze as she peered up at him.

Narrowing his eyes, Ethan stared down at her, noting from his periphery that Freya and Reggie had stopped walking and had turned to face their errant companions. He inwardly cursed as he realised they didn't have time for the heart to heart he so dearly wanted, so instead he bent his head and kissed her again, ignoring the yell of protest from Reggie.

Vanessa giggled as she heard the man shout out once again, and she hugged her arms around Ethan's waist even tighter as she felt him draw her closer in a final embrace.

"Subtlety is not his greatest virtue."

Ethan grinned, turning around as the two fell into step again, this time his arm wrapped around her shoulder since he meant to keep her close. Freya had warned him that his reception from the Crescent wolves was likely to be frosty to say the least. Hayley had had a way with them that nobody else seemed to have perfected.

"Good news," Ethan smirked at Vanessa, "Freya says I probably won't have to marry one of their daughters long as I promise to at least consider betrothing our first born."

Vanessa simply arched a brow, her expression conveying that she wasn't entirely sure if Ethan was joking or not. She had heard a little about the wolves and their propensity for arranged marriages, including how Hayley had been betrothed to the son of another prominent wolf family even before her birth. The entire situation hadn't settled well with Vanessa, who valued the ideal of freedom above all others. Hope had revealed that her mother had indeed honoured the pact in order to protect her daughter, and that she had been fortunate that the man she had agreed to marry had been one with a kind and noble heart. However, the whole situation had still made Vanessa inherently uncomfortable, especially when she had realised that Hayley's relationship with Jackson had likely prevented her from pursuing the affections of the man her heart had truly desired. Hope had attested that that was a vampire by the name of Elijah – her uncle, in fact – but Vanessa had a sense that perhaps Hope was in some manner mistaken with her appraisal.

"Let's catch up, shall we?" Vanessa suggested, quickening her pace as she caught the somewhat nervous and fraught twist of Freya's lips, which the witch did her level best to hide from those around her.

By the time they reached the copse of trees that Reggie and Freya stood amongst, Ethan's heartbeat had picked up a little and his nose begun to twitch as his senses were flooded by the scents of more of his kind.

The wolves had been expecting them, and a large group of bayou residents had gathered to get the measure of the stranger Freya had brought with her.

Ethan felt all eyes on him as he took his place at the front, where a clearing had been formed for him and his party to address the pack. He cast a steely gaze out over the sea of faces, some twisted in analytical expressions of distaste, others openly curious, and many from admiring female eyes.

An older woman bustled to the front, flanked by a tall, red haired man Freya only vaguely recognised, and a rather irate looking Lisina, who was glaring with clear distrust at the newcomers.

Rather than shying away from prying eyes, Vanessa levelled her own unflinching stare back at the wolves, her hand clasped firmly in Ethan's. She ignored the whispers, gossip and speculation, choosing to remain at his side and deflect their hostility with indifference.

"Friendly bunch," Ethan muttered under his breath, noting how nervous Freya appeared. Reggie seemed to be drawing curious gazes of his own and, knowing the history of the curse placed upon them, the wolves stared at him with a mixture of reverence and irritation at his intrusion.

Intercepting the approving glances of a gathering of young women, Vanessa leaned closer and directed Ethan's attention to his new admirers with a smart tug on his sleeve.

"It appears you've caught the eye of the ladies, Mr. Chandler," she teased, wicked smirk in place. It was easy to recall the female attention the tall, undeniably handsome American had commanded from the female members of the audience upon their first meeting.

Although Vanessa had regarded the uncouth, womanising sharpshooter with disdain, she had of course not been blind to his charms; at the time, she was certain that he was not unaware of them either, especially if his exaggerated drawl and swagger were anything to go by.

Ethan shrugged, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in an absent fashion. "In search of a husband, perhaps. Alphas mate for life. A romantic notion for any young lady."

Craning his head, eyes still lingering over the crowd, Ethan murmured into Vanessa's ear, " _But I've chosen mine_."

He nipped at her earlobe and she indulged him with an affectionate smile. Their attentions, however, were suddenly redirected to Freya, who led the pack elder towards them. The crowd parted reverently as the grey haired wolf passed by, and Vanessa half expected to see them bow.

"It appears the court is yours, my love."

Freya spoke up in a strained tone that clearly did not go unnoticed by anyone, "Ethan, this is Audrey. She's the oldest surviving member of the Crescent pack."

Audrey, a tall, slim but formidable looking woman, raked her sharp eyed gaze over Ethan, who refused to shy away from the attention. Instead, he drew his shoulders back and stood taller, waiting for the woman to speak.

"So, you're the wolfman that Freya here expects us to instate as our alpha," she finally declared in her deep Southern drawl.

"Guilty as charged," Ethan replied, shooting the woman a glance and allowing, just for the briefest of moments, a flash of amber to cross his irises. Her lips curled into an almost warm smile immediately, suggesting that she was clearly impressed by Ethan's display of both power and control. Many of the Crescents were struggling in the wake of losing their link to Hayley, whose hybrid status had allowed them to change at will or not at all. They were facing an uncertain future, which would once again be decreed by the wax and wane of the moon.

"Well, it's not me you have to impress, doll," stated Audrey, turning to face the assembled crowd of wolves. A handful of young and undeniably brawny males pushed their way to the front of the group, sneers upon their faces and ill intent in their eyes. Ethan watched them all with nonchalance, although Vanessa stiffened at his side due to the perceived threat. He rested the palm of his hand in the small of her back and she relaxed, although her fingers twitched in readiness at her sides.

"We know you're struggling, without Hayley," Freya spoke up, taking a step forward and ignoring the incredulous puffs of breath and even growls that she was met with. "Hope is grieving for her mother, and in no fit state to be the leader you need right now. She's still a child, and her parents hadn't even started to prepare her for this kind of responsibility."

Sighing resolutely, Ethan weighed up the apparent 'competition', who it seemed were refusing to back down. "I figured this would end up a pissing contest."

Vanessa looked horrified at the prospect of violence - particularly given that Ethan would apparently be at the centre of the fray. Turning to Freya, she glared at her friend with building anger. Although she would do everything in her power to help, Vanessa would not risk the life of the man she loved, nor allow him to place himself in the path of danger again.

"Freya..." she began testily, falling reluctantly silent as Ethan's palm landed on her abdomen and he prevented her from stepping forwards.

"It's alright, darlin'," he assured her, his face devoid of all frivolity as he peered back at her. His expression was serious and imploring, conveying everything to her without the need for words.

Vanessa appeared less than convinced on the matter, and she quickly conjured to mind an incantation she knew would be capable of bringing the ridiculous matter to a conclusion, should it prove necessary. The wolves seemed intent on provoking the rage of their ancestor, but Vanessa was almost certain that they had no intention of invoking the rage of a witch who had defeated Lucifer himself.

Reggie stepped in front of the man he had been charged with protecting - a man his tribe had watched over for more than a century. His arms folded across his chest and he directed a disapproving glare at the nearest of the two men who sought to challenge Ethan.

"Didn't your mommas teach you to respect your elders?" Reggie demanded, not relishing the building atmosphere of aggression. It seemed the whole crowd was spoiling for a fight.

"You got some nerve to set foot here, Mikaelson. We heard the rumours. We know it's your brother's fault that our alpha is dead," a man from the back of the crowd hollered, and a cry of agreement rose up through the assembled throng, all of whom wore expressions of distaste as they eyed Freya. The witch stood firm, shoulders back and head tilted upwards as though she dared each of the wolves to make a move against her.

"Hey now, anything you have to say, you say it to me," Ethan demanded, stepping further into the mud and using his own body to shield the group who had accompanied him.

"Ethan," Vanessa whispered, unable to keep his name from tumbling from her lips like a desperate prayer. He resisted the urge to turn to offer her reassurance in the form of a smile or a wink, choosing instead to keep his eyes trained on the wolves, who offered the biggest threat to his safety. There was no doubt in Ethan's mind that he could take any one of the bayou boys who chose to swing a punch at him but, even so, turning his back on them was not a wise thing to do.

"We aren't going to stand for Mikaelsons poking their noses in our affairs anymore," a woman positioned at the front of the crowd declared, shooting Audrey a brazen look of defiance as the old woman scowled at her.

"Settle down, settle down!" commanded Audrey, her upper lip curling in disgust. "Hayley hasn't even been gone a week, rest her soul, and y'all are already fightin' over her crown like pups over a scrap of meat. You ought to be ashamed, every last one of you."

One of the men shrank back, avoiding Audrey's angry eyes as he appeared to momentarily take stock of his actions. Ethan watched him closely for a few seconds before his attention was taken by the shorter, blonde haired man beside him, who was shifting his weight indecisively from one foot to the other. He wasn't sure what had changed in the century he had been 'asleep', but Ethan had awoken with his senses more sharpened than he could recall - with a control over the curse that had been placed upon him that he had previously been lacking. He could practically hear his would-be opponent's heart rate pick up, and could smell the nervousness that rolled off his body.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, intensely aware of his surroundings, and senses collectively honed. So when the blonde man decided to rush full pelt at the werewolf, he was not in the least taken aback by the assault.

The blonde grappled for his perceived foe, but instead found himself unceremoniously hurled into the crowd as Ethan concentrated his rage into defending himself and the women on either side of him.

"Ethan!" Vanessa shouted, glaring at the assembled wolves as they began cheering and jeering, as if to encourage the fight.

"Enough of this! We came here to help you…" Freya implored, her eyes desperate as she swept the sea of faces before her. Many were familiar; she had enjoyed crawfish broils with these people, sang, danced, and broken bread with them many times over the years that she had known Hayley. She couldn't help but consider how bitterly disappointed her friend would be with their behaviour now. It was only due to her love and respect for the hybrid that Freya held back with her magic, even though every fibre of her was screaming for her to take some kind of action.

"Too little, too late," Lisina spat. However, instead of staying to bay for blood, as the others appeared to be doing, she spun on her heel and stalked back up the small rise to her cabin, which stood slightly set back from the track.

A second man ran at Ethan, head down and shoulders squared as he braced himself to make impact with the stranger's body. He didn't even get close, however, as Ethan reached out and seized him around the neck as easily as he may swat away a fly on a hot day. The man's eyes bulged, and he began to gag, his face turning quickly crimson. Ethan shook his head, tsking loudly so that all could hear his disapproval. With a flick of his wrist, he cast the man aside, refusing to so much glance at him as he skittered on his back through puddles of mud and filth.

"Anyone else care to try his luck?" asked Ethan, his tone even and steady, breathing not so much as spiking despite his physical exertions, "next one gets his wrist broken."

An enraged snarl was the only response Ethan received as a tall and lithe female wolf with a long braid hanging down her back raced towards him. As good as his word, Ethan grabbed her wrist at lightning speed. There was a harsh and loud crack that rang out through the trees, causing the surrounding wolves to wince in sympathy and the birds in the treetops to take flight again. The woman dropped to her knees, mud caking her jeans, and threw back her head as she let out a scream of pain.

Ethan arched a brow, flinging a dirty look at the wolves that almost dared another to challenge his authority. He allowed his wolf control for just a fraction of a second, and his gums prickled as his fangs revealed themselves. Then, he forced the creature back into its internal cage, although it railed and beat against the bars as best it could. It was eager for the conflict to continue and escalate in ways that Ethan was not.

His breathing ragged, Ethan surveyed the gathered wolf clans with abject irritation. He had no desire to be alpha of the warring factions, and if it were not for his sense of duty to Freya and her young niece, he would have liked nothing better than to leave them all to their bickering.

"Usually," he panted, wiping at his mouth where a tiny spec of blood appeared to be the only evidence of the fight he had engaged in, "I have issues with striking a lady... But in this case, I'm willing to make an exception."

Raising his voice, he barked, "Make no mistake, I don't want any part in this. I don't want to be your God damn alpha. But Hope Mikaelson is a kid - a grieving kid - and so I'm gonna step up and take her place until we figure out how to bring Hayley Marshall back. If you want to challenge me, step up, but I'm older and stronger than all of you."

A stunned silence overwhelmed the crowd and they looked to Ethan in surprise, as if they'd misheard the part about raising their werewolf queen from the dead.

"Come on, folks, what are you waiting for?" Ethan snarled, stepping forwards with both hands raised in a gesture that dared another of the wolves to come at him. Slowly, they began to shuffle backwards, their eyes drifting from their wounded female comrade to Ethan and then to Audrey, who watched the whole escapade with fury playing across her features. She had been fond of Hayley, as a person and not just an alpha, and to see her memory tarnished by the poor behaviour of the pack piqued Audrey's ire.

"Not so eager now, are ya?" Audrey scoffed, her boots slapping against the mud as she moved to stand beside Ethan.

"I'm not going to make you kneel," Ethan continued, his head whipping around to ensure that the crowd was listening to him attentively, "I don't go in for that kind of bullshit. But mark my words… you betray me – you lay a finger on any of the people I care for – I will make you bleed. Do I make myself clear?"

A hush fell upon the pack, and Freya watched them anxiously, aware of the fearful and yet grudging acceptance that seemed to have descended upon them.

Vanessa too took in the crowd, carefully watching their faces as she stepped forwards and instantly accepted the hand Ethan held out to her. Knotting their fingers together, he stood at her side, levelling his gaze upon each and every face as if daring them to either accept his dominance or else choose to fight it.

When it seemed that none dared to challenge the oldest amongst them, Ethan nodded, an eyebrow arched as he drawled, "A wise decision, folks."

Pausing until Freya had taken the few tentative steps to his other side, Ethan raised his voice so that even those gathered at the fringes of the group could hear.

"The fighting stops now. We'll deal with the vampires how we see fit, you just gotta play by my rules and I promise you good people we'll take care of it. The Mikaelson family are your allies. Hayley was practically one of them... So you do as Freya says and hopefully in a few days it'll be your rightful alpha standing here in my place. Do I make myself clear?"

A murmur of acknowledgement rose up, and a smile of satisfaction bloomed on Audrey's face. Turning towards the gun slinger, she offered her hand, bowing her head in an obviously symbolic gesture.

Ethan seemed almost embarrassed by her show of submission, but he did his best to accept it with grace. He nodded his head in response, meeting Audrey's gaze squarely as she rose to her feet.

"Do we know what happened to the guy who killed your friend?" he pressed, loud enough for the rest of the wolves to hear, which was of course his intention. Audrey let loose a sigh that seemed to rattle her thin frame. Her hands knotted together in front of her, and she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"He bolted. Ran right from the scene of the crime, covered in blood, hollering something crazy about voices in his ear," Audrey stated, seeming almost reluctant to impart her knowledge of the murder to the new leader.

Vanessa turned her head slightly, her brows creased into a frown as she pondered the woman's words, and the murderer's apparent motive. Slowly but surely a familiar wave of unease began to rise up from the pit of her stomach, and as she looked up she found Ethan's gaze upon her.

Shaking her head hurriedly, she shot him a look that conveyed they would discuss her fears later on, in private, and so Ethan continued his conversation with Audrey. The pack appeared to be hanging on his every word now, and Vanessa could only assume that to be a good sign.

Casting her eyes over the crowd, Vanessa allowed herself to slip free from the bonds of the earthly plane so that her mind could breach the confines of the dreaded veil between worlds; the demimonde - a place in which she found equal fear and comfort.

Their voices were subdued at first - little more than snake hisses - and though they were far more uncertain and gentle than Lucifer's coaxing, they were as persistent and insidious.

Vanessa saw them, then. Or more precisely, her mind's eye saw them; two figures, wandering amongst the gathered wolves, muttering and cajoling at the ears of several unknowing victims. Though she could not hear their words, their intent seemed clear, even if just from the way their bodies writhed and undulated, surrounded by a toxic looking black mist.

Destruction.

Chaos.

She felt their power hit her head on like a freight train, and her breath caught in her chest. The presence of the ancient pair bore down into her soul, capturing her momentarily by surprise.

" _Amunet_ ," the voice seemed to blow softly against her cheek, a spark of recognition in its tone.

Gathering her senses, Vanessa reeled back, determined not to allow the being any purchase on her mind.

"No!"

Ethan turned sharply, holding up a hand to Audrey to silence her as he looked down at Vanessa with concern and a sense of dread he had hoped this century would not provide.

"Van? What is it?"

Vanessa, eyes blown wide, simply stared up at her lover, her expression one of utter turmoil. It became clear to those surrounding them that something was afoot, and they began to break away from the throng into smaller groups, wandering off and whispering to each other. In light of what she now knew, such behaviour bothered Vanessa even more than their earlier aggression had.

"It seems, my love," she hissed, her fingers clenching around Ethan's sleeve, "that we may be facing a bigger problem than I first thought."


	7. Chapter 7

**_I’ll Give You Everything I Have_ **

**_7_ **

****

**_Mikaelson Compound, New Orleans_ **

Staring at the box in the centre of the table, Hope flicked her wrist and watched it rotate, entirely as a consequence of her magic. The spectacle brought the faintest smile to her lips, but any tinge of pleasure she felt at her success dissipated the moment she heard the gate to the compound grind open.

Hope was on her feet and waiting by the doorway at inhuman speed, just in time to intercept Ethan and Vanessa as they bustled into the courtyard. The woman appeared harried, her features even paler than usual, which was saying something. Freya brought up the rear of the party, wearing an expression of concern that rivalled even Vanessa’s. They barely spared a glance towards the teen, although Ethan touched her shoulder as they moved by her, letting her know that her presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. Hope appreciated that much at least.

She stayed silent as she watched the group file into the compound and Freya sink down onto a bench. Each of them looked weary and as though the years had caught up with them suddenly.

“The bayou situation is under control,” Ethan finally spoke, raising his gaze to Hope, who appeared to deflate a little at the news as though her relief took her breath with it. She barely managed to nod before she jerked her thumb in the direction of the wooden box sitting atop the table.

“Jasper brought this before. He said it was from Uncle Kol but I shouldn’t open it?” she phrased the statement more as a question, arching a brow as she glanced at Freya for reassurance. Her aunt pursed her lips and peered down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap in an attempt to hide their trembling.

“The first of the daylight rings,” Vanessa revealed, awarding Hope with a smile, although it seemed like a somewhat empty gesture.

“Daylight rings?” repeated Hope, standing a little straighter as she addressed the older, more experienced witch. “You need the daylight rings? What for?”

Suddenly connecting the dots of her earlier conversation with her other doting aunt, Hope frowned, “Aunt Bex said she’d Fed-Ex’d ‘the thing you asked for’ over here. I... I thought she meant a birthday gift.” The teenager shrugged, watching as Vanessa nodded, clearly relieved to hear the elements of their plan were starting to come together.

“So that leaves, who? Klaus... and...” Ethan began, eyes widening as Freya tried her best to diplomatically quieten him with an arched eyebrow in her niece’s direction.

“Klaus’ ring is here at the compound.” Freya looked at Hope with an apologetic frown in place. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but we’re going to need your ring for the spell. If it works, your dad will be able to come home.”

 “Yeah, whatever you guys want,” Hope said quietly, jamming her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she added, “I’ll go get it.”

 

Vanessa offered her a smile of gratitude, “Thank you, Hope.”

Her smile did not falter until the child had left the room, but once the door closed Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger whilst he heaved a deep sigh.

“Alright, what were those things?” he asked, noting how troubled Vanessa appeared, as she clasped her hands together in front of her, her brows knit into an anxious frown.

He reached out and placed his hand over hers, brushing his thumb over her warm skin until she lifted her eyes to reward him with the briefest smile of acknowledgement.

“I could not be certain,” Vanessa began, hesitating, a frown contorting her lips, “their power was dark… intense… but magnetic. I have only ever sensed something similar once before and I…”

Vanessa fell silent, shaking her head as her attempt at an explanation fell flat. She folded her hands together into a knot and turned her head away from her lover and her friend, her gaze coming to settle on the large, carved letter M that was etched into the stone above the courtyard gate. Her eyes swept the serpent coiled around it and she shuddered hard.

“Van?” prompted Ethan, his features darkening as he scoured Vanessa’s face for all traces of the explanation she seemed reluctant to provide.

“I have only once before sensed a similar power,” continued the witch, drawing her shoulders back and meeting Ethan’s keen stare head on, “when I faced Lucifer, over a century ago.”

Freya hissed as she drew in a breath, a hand coming naturally to flutter at her mouth as she reeled from the blow Vanessa had so unwillingly dealt.

“The devil?” the blonde witch demanded, disbelief dripping from her tone, although Ethan presumed it was more from her desire to believe Vanessa to be mistaken as opposed to actual doubt.

“You think this… all of this…” Freya said, raising both hands and turning a half circle where she sat to encompass the compound, “is the work of Lucifer?”

Vanessa remained silent, mulling over Freya’s query and her own prior knowledge of the greatest foe she had ever faced. True, she had experienced such a wave of power in the bayou that it had almost swept her feet from under her, but it couldn’t be said that her feelings at the time were quite identical to those she had found herself captive to when in the devil’s sights.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why would the devil… I can’t believe I’m even saying this… what would the devil possibly have to gain from fracturing my family?” queried Freya insistently, raking a hand through her hair and shooting a somewhat frustrated look towards her friends. “I mean, Klaus is some piece of work, alright, but he’s… it’s not like he…”

“Is comparable to the Lord of Darkness?” supplied Ethan, a crooked grin quirking his lips just in time to take the wind out of Freya’s sails. She sagged visibly, hands falling back to her sides, and puffed out a little laugh that was lost quickly within the surrounding stone walls.

“Well I guess that depends on who you ask,” she replied before she continued, adamant, “but there’s just no way. Whilst the Mikaelsons have made their share of enemies over time, I’m positive that not one of us has registered on Lucifer’s radar. Even when I lived under Dahlia, I never possessed the kind of power that would draw the attention of… _him_.”

Vanessa felt her heart constrict at the look of panic that seized Ethan’s features, and she reached out to place her palm gently but firmly against his cheek.

“If I have brought this upon you... If our...” he faltered as he tried to find the words, reluctant to reveal too much in Freya’s presence, “closeness has...”

He seemed guilt stricken - wondering if the darkness that had once preyed on Vanessa had been unleashed or somehow provoked by the new intimacy the two shared. He had previously had to content himself with loving her from afar, the only opportunity to hold her in his arms being, more often than not, born out of fear.

Shaking her head, Vanessa claimed his gaze, “It is not Lucifer, of that I am certain.”

She watched as a flash of relief clouded his brown eyes. He seized her hand and pressed a tender kiss to the underside of her wrist.

“As long as you’re certain,” he allowed, surprised when Vanessa shuffled closer and pressed herself into his side. Placing an arm around her waist, he drew her against him, smiling at her dismissal of Victorian propriety.

“It is not Lucifer... Or his brother,” Vanessa concluded, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she appeared to wrestle with the words on the tip of her tongue. “But the energy is similar. I believe they are ‘old ones’.”

“Old ones? What does that mean?” demanded Hope as she clattered down the stairs in her heeled boots, a ring box in her hand. She paused in front of the table and then almost reverently placed down the box that Freya had gifted to her only that morning. She slid it along the polished mahogany until it rested beside Kol’s package.

“The term ‘old ones’ is used to refer to anyone, or indeed anything that was born before man,” Vanessa explained, pausing to flash a small smile at the child, who blinked back through wide, astonished eyes.

“Like before mankind?” she pressed, obviously awed by the information she had received. Given that her father was over a thousand years old, Hope often had trouble comprehending that any supernatural being could predate him. She had heard very little regarding Heaven, Hell and the in-between from her family, and it was a seldom discussed topic at school either, meaning that Hope had never truly contemplated what might await them all in the beyond.

“Yes. Before this world was even created, although not as old as God himself, they are the most ancient of beings. Some follow the path of the Lord and watch over the souls on Earth...” Vanessa chuckled as she added, “you and I would perhaps know them as ‘angels’. But then there are others... Others who follow a different path, and who desire chaos and gratification of their own desires over man.”

Hope frowned, clearly chewing over this new information with the kind of hesitancy and scepticism a teenager could muster. “And like... You’ve met these things?”

Vanessa ducked her head in reply, clearly not willing to divulge the details of her history with Lucifer or Dracula to the young witch.

“One or two,” Ethan managed, his tone conveying his obvious distaste for the creatures they once more found themselves opposing.

“Persistent f...” he stopped himself before the profanity escaped his lips, “creatures.”

Hope shot him a knowing look that indicated she was fully aware of his almost slip up, and Ethan did his best to look cowed rather than amused. He gathered that he failed spectacularly though when he spotted Hope trying to iron out a smirk.

“So we have to be extra careful how we tread here,” Freya stated, standing and taking an unconscious step towards her niece as the danger presented itself, “if we run across their energies again, maybe I can help you to identify who or what they are.”

Vanessa agreed readily with a nod. She sank into a nearby chair and gestured for the others to do likewise, especially since Ethan looked on the verge of falling asleep standing up as a consequence of the spat at the bayou. He hadn’t much tested his wolf strength and abilities since awakening, and he was almost embarrassed to admit that the fight had near drained him. However, he internally assuaged himself with the reasoning that his body, his muscles, his mind, and even his beast, were recovering from over one hundred years of atrophy.

“But we’re still going ahead with the plan to get rid of the Hollow, right?” persisted Hope, suddenly so very obviously afraid of the answer she might receive. She tried her best to not appear to be on the verge of tears but nobody was fooled by her charade, and Freya quickly reached out to squeeze her elbow.

“I see no reason not to proceed, cautiously, as your aunt has already advised,” Vanessa returned, and Hope released an audible breath of relief.

Rubbing her hands nervously up and down her denim clad legs, Freya cast a careful glance at Hope, as if nervous of the girl’s response to her proceeding statement.

“I uh… I haven’t been able to get a hold of Elijah. His cell phone’s going straight to voicemail, he’s not picking up my messages, he’s ignoring texts, I…” she shrugged, noting the murderous spark that had ignited in Hope’s eyes at the mention of her uncle.

“We need his ring if we are to complete the ritual,” Vanessa stated, leaning back in her seat and appearing to mull over the situation at hand.

“I don’t know how to contact him. Not by any conventional way, anyway…” Freya admitted, only just managing to mask her own irritation at her sibling’s behaviour. Whilst she understood grief, she could not condone running from one’s family when they were most needed.

“Then we must utilise the unconventional,” Vanessa began, noting how Ethan appeared immediately anxious at the suggestion of other worldly activities. She wondered if he would ever again find himself comfortable in a world of magic.

“What are you suggesting?” Freya shuffled towards the edge of her seat, her hands clasped together tightly as she eyed her friend, whose serene smile gave little away.

“Dream walking,” Vanessa replied, hearing the heavy sigh from the man beside her and reaching out to place a hand over his.

“I did that once! I… I can go… I can talk to him, it’s the least he owes us, right?” Hope said earnestly, seemingly delighted that she could be part of the plan to reunite her family.

“Vanessa, I don’t have that kind of power. I couldn’t keep the gateway open long enough to send anybody through. Dahlia had that kind of power, not me…” Freya said in earnest, catching the expression of disappointment on her young niece’s face as it appeared that her hopes were being dashed.

“I do,” Vanessa stated with confidence, “and with our combined power, I am certain we can locate your brother.”

“Even so, I don’t think Hope should go,” Freya said firmly, ignoring the irate glare her niece shot at her, which so clearly conveyed her feelings on the matter.

“Why not?” demanded Hope. All traces of her usual acquiescence were gone, replaced instead by the stereotypical air of the petulant teenager. It was so unlike her general demeanour but Freya recognised that Hope had been through a lot in just a matter of days, and so she let it slide.

“Hope,” she gently chided, reaching out and squeezing the top of her niece’s arm, “you know this could be dangerous. Walking in someone else’s dream makes you vulnerable to whatever is taking place in their psyche. The monsters of their nightmares become real, and they have the power to hurt you, not just psychologically. Uncle Elijah…”

“That man is not my uncle anymore,” ground out Hope.

“Elijah is hardly in a good place right now,” continued Freya, not losing steam even though she was being met by such hostility and defiance. “He is probably his very worst self right now and I…”

“You’re scared he’s going to hurt me,” stated Hope, her eyes sweeping her aunt’s figure. She drank in the small but noticeable lines of worry creasing the corner of the woman’s eyes, the way she seemed hunched over somewhat, and the downward turn of her mouth. Hope softened, her fingers reaching out unbidden and brushing against the back of Freya’s hand.

“He won’t,” she promised, her voice steely but not entirely cold. “I don’t think even he could be capable of killing his last piece of… Mom.”

Ethan, who had remained silent, for it was arguably not his fight, cleared his throat and stepped forwards.

“I think she’s right, Freya,” he spoke up, shooting a look at Hope and then her aunt. “I know this ain’t my place really, but let the kid help. This is probably the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do for the foreseeable so… give her a part.”

“See, even the new Alpha thinks it’s a good idea,” Hope said quickly, a smile blooming as she finished up.

“Yeah,” Ethan drawled, his eyes narrowed playfully, “can we please not call me that?!”

“Guess I’ll cancel the pin badges and t-shirts I ordered, then,” Hope deadpanned, even more amused when Ethan seemed to only have a vague understanding of her joke. He conceded to chuckle anyway.

On her feet almost immediately, Vanessa clasped her hands together, “Good, then it is settled. We shall begin immediately.”

Ethan shrugged as he and Freya exchanged equally amused and yet nervous glances. Watching Vanessa hurry past them clearly full of purpose, Freya leant closer to her old friend and whispered, “It’s good to see some things have not changed. Vanessa is as impetuous as she ever was.”

Ethan laughed heartily, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Freya giggled, her laughter ceasing abruptly as Vanessa turned around and shot them both an amused smile. “And her hearing is just as attuned. Shall we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said dutifully, offering her an affectionate wink that broadened her smile.

Seeming more nervous than she had previously, Hope flashed a watery smile to the adults and nodded her head.

“I guess I’m off to dreamland.”

 

**x-x-x**

Lying in the centre of her impossibly large, amazingly comfortable bed, Hope could have almost allowed herself to drift off into real slumber, had it not been for the chanting of the two witches either side of her. Their voices swathed her like the warmest blanket, soothing her nerves and instilling her with a counterfeit confidence that she did not actually possess. Ethan had chosen to sit outside the bedroom door, so as not to disturb the spell in progress, and perhaps also to serve as sentry against any of the vampires who may have accidentally stumbled in.

Fingers tightened around both of Hope’s wrists as Freya and Vanessa gripped her skin, providing the physical link to her that they required to channel their collective energies into her body. Hope felt herself growing heavier as the chanting wore on, loud voices fading into distant murmurs as she let herself go and prepared to be plunged into the depths of Elijah’s mind.

A speedy locator spell had pinpointed his location somewhere in the South of France, and an even quicker scrying spell had revealed the moment he had conveniently slipped into alcohol induced unconsciousness. The three witches had set to work on their third and final spell of the evening within minutes, under the protective, watchful eye of the wolf alpha.

Klaus knew nothing of what Hope was set to embroil herself within, which was a carefully thought out decision on Freya’s part. There was not a single cell in her body that believed Niklaus would ever sanction his daughter taking part in such a dangerous magical practice, even if it might perhaps lead to the recovery of the one woman whose loss had devastated him beyond all others. First and foremost, Klaus was a father, and he was doing his very best to step up to the role in the manner in which he believed Hayley would have wanted him to. She would never have risked Hope in such a way, and so neither would Klaus, despite his deepest yearnings.

As if her entire body were now weightless, Hope felt herself drifting upwards. A bright light flashed before her eyes and she suddenly landed with a start inside her own body. She opened her eyes and scanned the long hallway before her, off of which came several doorways, all different in appearance and apparently age. Lifting her hand up in front of her, Hope felt a strange static charge pass through her body, as though she were made of pure energy – and in a sense she was - an apparition crafted solely out of Freya and Vanessa’s joined power.

She took a hesitant step forwards, the sound of the women’s chanting still audible in the recesses of her mind. She knew almost instinctively where she would find Elijah, and in a few steps she found herself before an oak door. The hinges and lock were thick, solid, and blackened, as if serving as a deterrent to those who may dare to wish to enter.

Hope pressed her palm to the door and used her other hand to turn the handle without any pause. When she stepped inside, she was unsurprised to find herself in an ancient woodland with the smell of smoke permeating her nostrils and the chill of the cool air stinging her cheeks. It made a strange kind of sense to know that Elijah had gone home, back to where it had all begun over a thousand years ago.

“Elijah?” she shouted, frustrated at hearing nothing in return but the sound of the tree branches swaying.

Hope stilled, as her mother had taught her to do when she was a young child, and she cocked her head to strain to hear anything above the wind. Although she had yet to trigger her wolf curse, her senses were naturally honed given her vampire lineage, and she intended to make good use of them. It didn’t take long for the sound of broken weeping to reach her ears, yet instead of finding herself moved, Hope rolled her eyes and began to plough through the trees with determination towards the source of the din. When she had first contemplated the condition in which she would find Elijah, her logic had offered her only two potential possibilities; she would either discover him lost in the throes of grief, and bereft, or else she would finally become acquainted with the monstrous side of Elijah Mikaelson that dwelled behind the red door. She was somewhat relieved to see that it appeared to be the former rather than the latter that awaited her.

Hope broke through the trees and into a clearing, the grass of which was browned as though scorched by fire rather than natural sunlight. At the edge of the clearing, on his knees, was a man in a dark blue suit, his back to the forest line and his head bowed as he sagged over a grave. Hope could have painted the scene herself given all she knew about her uncle and his tendency towards guilt, but the rest of the image she could not have predicted, and it was that that gave her pause. Stretched out before them was countless headstones, uniform, grey and unthreatening in appearance, but no less foreboding. 

With hesitance born of slight fear, Hope pushed herself to take a few steps forward, which brought her up directly behind Elijah. His sobs continued, no quieter or louder than they had been upon her arrival, and she watched as his hand swiped forward to land on the headstone he seemed to devote all his attention to. The inscription read ‘Hayley Marshall-Kenner’ and Hope was powerless to stop the strangled noise that escaped her suddenly constricted throat. There was no grave for her mother in the real world, as was customary in wolf society, and seeing one seemed only to hammer home the injustice of her death.

“What… the hell… is this?” Hope managed to choke, raising both hands and gesturing to the sea of stone, although Elijah did not turn to intercept her with his gaze and so could not see the motion.

Staring out across the perhaps hundreds of graves that seemed to lay even beyond the horizon, Elijah, brow furrowed, spoke softly. “Those whose lives I have been instrumental in ending… abruptly. Cruelly. Without mercy. The souls whose deaths I...”

Hope nodded, her arms folded across her chest, “Okay, well whatever. I’ll let you get back to enjoying your creepy ass pity party, I just need something from you. Aunt Freya and her friend have found a way to banish the Hollow. They think… they think they can maybe even bring Mom back.”

Her annoyance outweighing any other emotion, she sighed testily, “So I’m gonna need your daylight ring.”

Gesturing down to the silver ring on his finger, Hope held out her hand and clicked her fingers to hasten the delivery of said object. “Like, today…”

The smile that befell Elijah’s lips was sad, pitiful even, and he shook his head as though to deny the request.

“You are not real,” he whispered, eyes ticking to the stone he hovered over like a mother about to tuck in her child at bedtime. “The real Hope hates me. She would never come here. You’re a figment of my subconscious imagination… nothing more than a culmination of my guilt and my ridiculous longing for…”

“Oh I hate you alright,” snapped back Hope, losing what little patience she had come with, “but I need your ring and I’m not leaving here without it. Maybe if you answered your phone once in a while, Aunt Freya would have been able to ask you for it like a normal person.”

Elijah frowned deeply, more of a grimace really twisting his features into something contorted and near unrecognisable. Every one of his thousand years was weighing upon him, Hope could see.

“But I am neither normal nor am I person,” he replied, raking one hand through his usually immaculate hair and tousling it so that strands scattered across his forehead, “I’m a monster.”

Hope’s jaw set and she could feel the muscles either side of her face twitching as she fought to dampen the surge of anger that threatened to send her railing at her uncle. She doubted that having a temper tantrum would do much of anything to convince him that she was real, and so she knew that she must choose her words carefully if she had any chance of getting him to bow to her wishes. Freya had armed Hope with a spell to work once dream-Elijah passed over his ring; an incantation that would allow the girl to bring the object back into the real world with her, as a solid, tangible item. Elijah would reawaken in France to find the article missing, and Freya didn’t have to tell Hope that she was hopeful that its absence would cement to him the truth behind his apparent encounter with his niece. Hope couldn’t have cared less if it did, since she had no real desire for her oldest uncle to join their fight. He had been instrumental in the death of her mother – complicit long before that in Hayley’s misery – and Hope thoroughly believed that even if the hybrid could be resurrected, her future path did not intertwine with Elijah’s. Not anymore.

“We’re all monsters,” said Hope, reaching for Elijah’s hand and snatching it up in order to begin tugging his ring off. He watched her for a few moments without stopping her, eyes narrowed and expression calculating, as though he was attempting to figure out why his dream was changing so abruptly.

“Some more so than others,” Elijah finally countered, easily removing his hand from Hope’s grasp, despite her tribid strength. Infuriatingly, he turned his back on her and sank down in front of the grave again, mud seeping into the knees of his trousers.

“Had this dream often?” demanded Hope, growing frustrated with the challenge her uncle’s melancholy was presenting, “have I ever popped up before? Another Mikaelson strolled out of the horror movie forest to ask for your ring? Or is it usually just a lot of crying and self-flagellation?”

The slight shaking of Elijah’s shoulders seemed to still for a second, and his voice rose up on the ever present breeze.

“That’s a rather weighty term for such a young woman to wield,” he remarked, hint of a smile causing his voice to quiver.

Hope shrugged, “Yeah, well I’m my father’s daughter.”

Succeeding in removing the ring with only a curious gaze to deter her, the teenager stepped back, the ancient item clutched in her hand with the correct degree of reverence.

“Alright, Aunt Freya… I got it,” she whispered, closing her eyes and trying her hardest to focus on the two voices she could still hear, whispering the chant that had brought her to this realm and would again transport her home.

“Hope…” Elijah began, “if it really is you… I am truly sorry.”

Hope’s eyes flashed open and Elijah frowned as he saw his brother’s gaze levelled at him with a fury that could have easily matched Klaus’ most incandescent rage.

Forgoing all sense of formality and adopting a tone more befitting her age and maturity, Hope glared at him with appropriate ire. “Seriously? Empty apologies? Screw you, _Uncle_ Elijah.”

Looking utterly bereft at his niece’s reaction, but knowing that he deserved every bit of her hostility, Elijah bowed his head.

“Will you ever forgive me, Hope?” he asked quietly, his eyes drawn back to the gravestone.

Hope found her own gaze falling to the freshly interred earth, her nostrils flaring at the stench of death and decay that suddenly flooded them. It was near suffocating and she managed to shrug it off with difficulty.

“I’ll forgive you…” Hope said, swallowing hard, and her voice was harsh when she added, “when she can hold me in her arms again.”

Elijah inhaled sharply, glad that he was already back on his knees. Hope vanished from his view as abruptly as she had appeared, and left him to his dead.

 

 

 


End file.
